Something To Be Proud Of
by GoofyGal2008
Summary: All she wanted was to find a way out of the hole she'd been digging for herself. She never expected that one chance meeting could change her life & set her on a path of self-discovery that would leave everyone around her changed forever.
1. Try Again

**A/N:** I know, I probably have no business starting another multi-chapter story right now, but this idea has been rolling around in my brain ever since I watched episode 5.07, and I wanted to at least start getting it posted before it drove me crazy :)

In terms of the timeline, this story picks up right after episode 5.07. This first chapter is a bit shorter than my usual chapters, but they will get longer as we get deeper into the story. There will be a lot of character exploration here, along with some fun relationships that we'll probably never see on the show. I can't tell you right now which ones those will be, though, becaue I don't want to give away too much of the story.

Please feel free to leave a review - I welcome all comments, good, bad or indifferent. Your thoughts are important to me, so please let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters contained in this story. I claim no rights to them and I make no profit from them.

Enough of my ramblings and on with the story...

* * *

Stella Bonasera sighed heavily as she unlocked her car and climbed into the driver's seat. Today had been one of those days when she wished she had chosen to become a stockbroker or an engineer or maybe an airline pilot – anything other than a cop. To those detectives who said that there was nothing harder than working the case of a murdered child, she had an answer: working the case of a murdered foster child when you yourself were a former foster child.

She was amazed that she'd managed to hold it together as long as she had. She'd made it through the autopsy with Sid, the multiple interrogations, she'd even managed to sit there and listen to the abusive foster mother confess. She had somehow survived, making it through the day without breaking down. At that moment, though, there was nothing she wanted more than to curl up on her couch with a bottle of red wine and forget the day had ever happened.

It was almost as though she were on autopilot as she drove to the liquor store and walked through the door, quickly buying two bottles of relatively inexpensive wine and a corkscrew before returning to her car and driving back to her apartment.

Once inside, she dropped her bag in the entryway and headed into the kitchen. Opening her cupboard, she dug around until she found a glass – not a wine glass, but she figured that it would do well enough for tonight. As she uncorked the first bottle, she bit her lower lip to keep the tears from falling. Pouring herself that first glass, she paused to enjoy the familiar smell as it splashed into the cup.

* * *

Three hours later, Stella slowly walked into a nondescript building in downtown Manhattan and headed straight for the familiar back conference room. Slipping into a seat in the circle, she stared intently at her shoes as she waited for the rest of that evening's group to arrive.

When it finally came time for her to speak, she was surprised to find her voice shaking so much that she could barely understand her own words.

"It just seems that every time you get comfortable with something, every time the past finally seems to be staying in the past, the universe throws you another curve ball," she said, noting the understanding in the eyes of the others. "There's been some stuff in my life that's bringing up memories that I'd really rather forget, and I've been thinking a lot lately about how this all started…I was ten years old when I had my first drink, twenty-one the first time I came to one of these meetings and thirty-seven the day I had my last drink, 372 days ago. I almost lost all that tonight, though. I had the drink in my hand, ready to throw away all that hard work. I still don't know why I didn't, to be honest, and I think that's the part that scares me the most. Yeah, I'm disappointed and frustrated that I let myself get that close to losing my sobriety, but I can understand the events that led up to that. I can process what happened and I can figure out a plan to stop it the next time it starts. What I can't understand is what it was that made me pour that drink down the drain and come here instead…and I'm absolutely terrified that if I don't know what it is that made me stop, the next time I get that close, I won't stop and I'll be right back where I started."

As much as she tried to listen to the statements of those who followed her, Stella found her mind drifting in and out of the meeting. When the young woman sitting directly across from her began to speak, though, she found herself curiously drawn in by the strange familiarity of her voice.

"This is my third meeting," the young woman said. "I guess you could say I'm still waiting for it all to sink in or something. I know that I have a problem, I know that I'm an alcoholic, and I know admitting it is a big step, but it's the ones that come after that seem to be causing me problems. Like I said, it's my third meeting in two weeks…I haven't made it very far with the others, though. My last drink was an hour and a half ago, and I really don't know how I'm going to make it another hour, let alone another day. My family has no idea that I'm here. They know that I'm the screw-up in their perfect little world, but they don't know how bad it is, how big the problem has become. After my first meeting, I made it three days before I had another drink; after the second, I only made it two. I really need this time to work, because I'm just so tired of failing at everything…so tired of disappointing everyone in my life."

* * *

"How do you do it?"

Stella turned around from where she was pouring herself a cup of coffee to find herself face to face with the young woman who had caught her attention earlier.

"Do what?" she asked.

"Make it so long," the young woman said nervously. "I can't even make it more than a day or two, and you said it had been over a year for you…how do you do it?"

"It isn't easy," Stella said. "I've slipped up so many times. Heck, this isn't even my first time making it past the one year mark. Sometimes you can take it day by day, other times it's all you can do just to make it from one hour to the next."

"I don't know if I can do it," the young woman said, an air of defeat in her voice. "I keep waiting for something to just click, you know?"

"It only works like that in the movies," Stella smiled. "Do you have a sponsor yet?"

"Not yet," the young woman said. "There was a woman who offered at my first meeting, but I don't know, I just felt guilty after I slipped up, so I never called her."

"Come on," Stella said, dropping her untouched coffee into the trash can. "I'll buy you a cup of real coffee and we'll chat."

"Really?" the young woman asked.

"Really," Stella nodded, extending her hand. "I'm Stella, by the way."

"Samantha," Samantha replied, shaking Stella's hand.

* * *

"My family's all perfect," Samantha said, staring dejectedly into her mug of coffee as she sat across the table from Stella. "My dad had all these plans for my brother and I. My brother, well, sure he got into a little trouble when we teenagers, but for the most part, he's always been the dutiful son, living the life that Daddy-dearest planned out for him."

"But you wanted something different," Stella said.

"I never knew what I wanted," Samantha said. "Other than that I knew I didn't want what he wanted for me. My father, well, he's very old-school, I guess you could say. There was no real option: I'd get a job after I graduated high school, work for a few years as a secretary or something, and then get married and be a dutiful little housewife, just like my mother."

"Not much of a choice," Stella said.

"I know, right?" Samantha laughed. "So, I spent my high school years getting into as much trouble as I possibly could. I wasn't much of a drinker back then…not until my senior year, at least. Ever since then, I've been sort of drifting, you know? Moving from one bartending gig to the next, hanging out with the wrong crowd, trying to have as much fun as I could."

"What changed?" Stella asked.

"What do you mean?" Samantha asked.

"You lived that way for years, Samantha," Stella said. "But now you're here, sitting in a coffee shop with me and getting yourself ready to work the program. Why? What brought you here?"

"I'm not really sure," Samantha admitted. "My brother…he came by to see me a few weeks ago, and I couldn't even let him up, because I'd already been through half a bottle of whiskey and it wasn't even three o'clock yet. He would have been so disappointed if he'd seen that – there he was, making this really sweet gesture to apologize to me, when, as usual, I was the one screwing up. I don't want to do that anymore, Stella. I don't want to be that person anymore. The rest of my family, they've all written me off as a lost cause. He was the only one who hadn't, but now…now it's been almost three weeks since that day and he hasn't called, he hasn't come by, he hasn't made one single effort to contact me. I think…I think I lost him, too."

Stella simply nodded, her hand resting on Samantha's in the middle of the table as the younger woman broke down and cried.

"Does it get better?" Samantha asked. "Can I get him back?"

"Possibly," Stella said. "Some people forgive more easily than others. You'll get your chance to apologize and ask for that forgiveness when you get to that step of the program. That's a bridge you have to cross when you get to it, though. First things first, we have to get you sober and keep you sober."

"We?" Samantha asked quietly.

"This isn't something you can do alone," Stella said. "That's why you need a sponsor, someone who you can call at any time of day or night, someone who'll talk you off that ledge and see you through the steps."

"And you'll do that?" Samantha asked.

"If you want me to, yes," Stella said.

"Okay then," Samantha nodded. "So, what do I do first?"


	2. The Past Rears Its Head

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for the reviews! I'm glad that you all are liking the story - I get that it may be a little different view of Stella than what we're used to, but sometimes it's fun to look at things in a different light. There will definitely be a lot more exploration of how this aspect of her life fits in with the character that we see on the show. I had planned on having some of that in this chapter, but it just didn't fit. Next chapter, I promise.

This chapter starts us in on Samantha's background - I figured we might as well jump right into the heart of her story. It was a little difficult for me to write, both because of the subject matter and because I really struggled to get the emotions just right. I hope that I did it justice!

* * *

Stella sighed as she sipped her coffee and hurried into the crime lab, glancing at her watch to see that she was already nearly ten minutes late for her shift. She was rarely late, but somehow, she'd managed to lose track of the time while chatting with Samantha after they attended a meeting that morning.

It had been a little over a month since they'd first met, and even Stella couldn't believe how well Samantha seemed to be doing. She'd started a new job, waiting tables at a small diner in lower Manhattan, and she was starting to talk about studying for her GED – although Stella knew it would probably be a while before she developed the confidence to actually take the test.

Certainly, there had been struggles – the first week, Stella had found herself at Samantha's apartment every night, talking her out of another craving, helping her through the rough patches. Although the last few weeks had been calm, Stella knew well enough that there were still hurdles to overcome. Although they talked a lot about what happened when they drank, Samantha seemed particularly reluctant to discuss the possible reasons for her drinking. Stella could tell there was a great deal of pain in her past, things she was trying to protect herself by not addressing, but she also knew that, in order to truly heal, Samantha would have to face these at some point.

There was just something about her that drew Stella in, but she couldn't place her finger on it. It was almost as though she'd met her somewhere before, but she was certain she would have remembered if she had.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Mac's voice pulled Stella from her thoughts as she stepped out of the elevator and into the lab.

"Hi Mac," Stella said. "Sorry, I must have zoned out for a minute there."

"Everything alright?" Mac asked.

"Fine, fine," Stella assured him. "I'm just a little tired, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

"Alright," Mac nodded. "Well, Danny's just packing up to head out to a scene. Why don't you put your things down and head out with him?"

* * *

"I really hate it when they run," Stella muttered as she and Danny made their way back into the lab that afternoon. "Why do they do that to me?"

"Same reason they tell me they didn't do nothing," Danny said. "They're stupid, stupid, stupid."

"And why do they always think that just because I'm a woman I'm not going to catch them?" Stella complained. "I swear, the next guy who grumbles about getting taken down by a chick is going to end up with my foot up his ass."

"Now there's a visual," Danny said, shaking his head. "You comin' out with us after work? First beer's on me for the way you slammed that jackass into the wall."

"Are you kidding me?" Stella laughed. "I slammed a guy into a wall, Danny. I've got a pile of paperwork to get through explaining why I really did have to do that to subdue him. You know how they've been about any use of force, what with all the incidents over the last few years."

"Yeah, don't envy you that one," Danny said. "Let me know if you change your mind, though. I'm telling you, the look on that perp's face…classic, Stel, I wish I'd had my camera."

Stella laughed, pausing as both their pagers began going off.

"Dispatch?" Stella asked, glancing over at Danny.

"Looks like I'm not getting that drink tonight either," Danny sighed.

"Cheer up, Messer," Stella said, patting him on the shoulder. "You get the car, I'll get the coffee. Heck, I'll even let you drive."

"Yeah, yeah," Danny grumbled. "You're just glad you've got an excuse to put off that paperwork."

* * *

"Alright, Flack, what do we have?" Stella asked, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape to enter the apartment that was their latest crime scene.

"Jenna Madison, age 20," Flack said. "Looks like the perp came in through the bedroom window, caught her by surprise. Poor kid never stood a chance, it seems. Body's here in the living room, but there's a lot of blood in the bedroom, too."

"You take the body, I'll take the bedroom?" Stella asked, turning to face Danny.

"Got it," Danny nodded, crouching down to begin his examination of the victim.

"I'm going to assume everyone in the building is blind and deaf?" Stella asked as she and Flack made their way into the bedroom.

"Pretty much," Don said. "Never ceases to amaze me, ya know. In a city this packed, no one ever manages to see or hear nothing. Crazy, right?"

"People get scared, I guess," Stella said. "It's easier to just mind your own business than to bother with anyone else's."

"Says the woman who doesn't have to go door to door through the whole building, talkin' to the blind and the deaf," Don said.

"Don't even try telling me that I've got an easier job," Stella said. "Not after the morning I had. Just…don't even go there, Flack."

"Yeah, I heard about the little chase," Flack said. "Saw your perp down in processing, too. Did you really pull that guy off a chain link fence? He musta been six feet, Stella, how'd you do that?"

"What can I say?" Stella shrugged. "I've got a deceptively strong upper body. Hey, can you grab one of those evidence tags from my kit?"

"Here ya go," Flack said. "Got something?"

"A few strands of hair," Stella said. "They don't look like they'll match our vic, but we'll have to wait until we get them back to the lab to know for sure."

"Well, don't let me distract you," Flack said. "The sooner we finish here, the better."

"Hot date, Flack?" Stella asked, forcing her tone to remain light.

"You know me," Don laughed. "I'm gonna go see if Messer's got anything."

* * *

"Well, that should do it," Stella said, carrying her kit back into the living room. "Find anything useful out here, Danny?"

"I've got a few unidentified fibers near the body," Danny said. "Some trace on the chair over there and a print on the door handle. Looks like a long night of processing, I'd say."

Stella nodded, looking as though she were going to say something, but was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone.

"Hold that thought, Danny," she said, pulling out her phone, glancing at the caller ID and immediately flipping it open and pressing it to her ear, moving just out of earshot of Danny and Flack.

"Hey Sam, what's going on?" Stella asked, knowing that Samantha knew not to call her work number unless it was an emergency.

"I'm slipping, Stella," Samantha said, her voice shaking as she cried. "I don't want to…but I can't stop thinking, Stella…I just don't want to think about it anymore…"

"Samantha, have you had anything to drink?" Stella asked in concern.

"No, not yet," Samantha said.

"Okay, that's good," Stella said. "Just try to stay calm, alright? Where are you?"

"My apartment," Samantha said.

"Okay, stay there," Stella said. "I'm coming over right now, Sam. Just give me half an hour to get there, alright? Just sit tight until I get there…we'll figure this out, okay? You can make it half an hour, I know you can."

"I guess so," Samantha agreed. "You're coming though, right?"

"I'm on my way," Stella assured her.

"Okay," Samantha said, taking a deep breath. "Okay, I'll see you soon then."

"Bye, Sam," Stella said, quickly hanging up the phone and turning back to meet the curious stares of Danny and Flack.

"Problem, Stella?" Flack asked curiously. While it was certainly frowned upon for detectives to take personal calls while they were working, as long as it didn't interfere with their work, almost everyone did it. Heck, he'd even seen Mac take a call from his stepson once. Stella, though, she was the one detective who he could honestly say he'd never seen break professionalism for a personal matter.

"Just something I've got to take care of," Stella said. "Danny, can you handle getting the evidence back to the lab? I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

"Yeah," Danny said in confusion. "You need me to catch a ride with Flack?"

"Do you mind?" Stella asked anxiously.

"No, it's fine," Danny said. "What should I tell Mac?"

"Just tell him I had a personal emergency," Stella said, quickly gathering her things and hurrying out the door.

"Personal emergency?" Flack repeated in disbelief.

"Stella never has personal emergencies," Danny said. "I mean, other than the whole thing with Frankie, but even that didn't interfere with her work once she got back."

"I've never seen her leave a crime scene like that," Flack said.

"It's weird, that's for sure," Danny agreed, shaking his head as he gathered up his kit. "Grab her kit, would ya?"

* * *

"Talk to me, Sam," Stella said in concern as Samantha opened the door to her apartment. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Samantha said, her voice cracking. "I thought I was doin' so well, ya know? And then…I didn't think it would hurt so much…I didn't know how numb I used to be, I guess."

"What hurts, Sam?" Stella asked. "We had breakfast this morning…what happened between then and now?"

Samantha paused for a moment, as though carefully considering exactly what to tell Stella.

"Sam, I know it's hard to open up to someone else," Stella said, immediately reading her reaction. "I don't like doing it much either. But if you don't talk to me, I can't help you. Don't shut me out, Samantha."

Samantha nodded, pulling open a drawer near her front door and silently handing Stella a large manila envelope.

"Open it," she said, slumping down on her couch as she watched Stella unclasp the envelope and pull its contents out.

Stella glanced at Samantha in confusion as she pulled out a small stack of photographs. Slowly flipping through them, the realization quickly began to dawn on her as she stared at the beautiful young girl with Samantha's eyes smiling up at her from the photographs.

"Oh, Sam," Stella sighed, moving to sit next to her on the couch and wrapping her arms around the young woman, who immediately broke down in her arms. "Shhh…it's going to be okay, Sam, it is."

"They come every year," Samantha said. "Ten pictures and a one-page letter. For nine months, she was all I had, and now all I've got is a bunch of lousy pictures and some letters."

"How old is she?" Stella asked.

"She turned ten last week," Samantha said. "Her name's Amy...I was seventeen when she was born. She's with good people now, I know that. I wanted to keep her, but it was just too much…she was the only good thing that happened to me that year."

"Tell me what happened, Sam," Stella encouraged.

"It was the day after my seventeenth birthday," Samantha said. "My brother, he took me out to this party…you know the type, typical Friday night in Queens for teenagers – everyone was drinking, dancing, nothing special. My brother, he hit it off with this girl he'd been eyein' for a while, so he asked his best friend, Kevin Maloney, to drive me home. I remember bein' so excited, 'cause I'd had this huge crush on Kevin…I thought he was the perfect guy. Turns out I was about as wrong as I could be on that one."

"What happened, Sam?" Stella asked cautiously.

"He didn't drive me home," Samantha said, her voice shaking as the tears began silently streaming down her face. "He took me to this abandoned parking lot a few blocks away. At first, I thought he just wanted to make out…and I was okay with that, so I went along with it. When he started to go further, I tried to stop him. I even got out of the car and tried to run away, but Kevin was on the track team in school…I tried to fight back, I swear I did…"

"I know you did, Sam," Stella tried to assure her. "What happened, it wasn't your fault…you know that, right?"

"If I hadn't kissed him at first…or maybe if I hadn't let him touch me…"

"No," Stella interrupted. "Sam, you said no. He had no right to do what he did. That man…this Kevin guy…he's at fault here, not you. He's a criminal, Sam, that's what he is. Did you tell anyone?"

"I couldn't," Samantha said. "Kevin was my brother's best friend, and my dad loved him like a second son…they never would have believed me over him. My dad, he used to say that girls who cried rape were just regretting their loose morals. No way would he have believed me."

"Is that when you ran away from home?" Stella asked, remembering a passing comment Samantha had made a few weeks earlier.

"There was no way I could stay once that stick turned blue," Samantha said. "I was already three months along by the time I figured it out…Dad would have kicked me out anyway, so I figured I'd just do it for him. At first, I thought I'd keep her, but the more I thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. I know I made the right decision, too."

"How so?" Stella asked.

"I love her, I really do," Samantha said. "I know I'm not really her mom, not like Maureen is, but I love her with all my heart…it's just, every time I look at those pictures, a little part of me thinks about that night, and that little part of me wishes it had never happened. What kind of a mother wishes her own child didn't exist, even just a little bit?"

"Samantha, no one can blame you for what you feel," Stella said.

"She's better off, though," Samantha said. "I mean, look at where I live, Stella. Look at what I've done to my life. She lives in the suburbs, out in Jersey. Evan and Maureen – they're the folks that adopted her – they've got this great two-story house, and a yard, and two other kids…they've even got a dog, I think. And when they look at her, there isn't any part of them that wishes she wasn't here."

"That doesn't make them better people, Samantha," Stella pointed out. "That just makes them people who haven't been through what you've been through."

"Sometimes, I wish I'd told my brother," Samantha admitted. "I wonder about it…if I had told him, would he have believed me? Would he have helped me with the baby? I know it's stupid, that I can't change what happened…and it probably wouldn't have worked, even if I had told him…but I just wonder…"

"It isn't stupid, but you can't live in the past, Sam," Stella sighed. "Believe me, I've tried and it doesn't work."

"Let go and let God, right?" Samantha asked.

"There's a reason you hear that at meetings so often," Stella said.

"I suppose," Samantha said. "It's just so hard, you know…I think about her all the time. When I was drinking, I didn't think about her as much…now, I can't stop. I just want it all to go away."

"Alcohol won't make it go away, Sam," Stella said. "All you'll do is add more regret to the pile."

"I know that, I really do," Samantha said. "It's just so hard…I just want the memories to stop. I want there to be an easy road."

"I know," Stella sighed, wrapping her arms around Samantha again. "I know."


	3. Connections

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing this story! In this chapter, we'll get a little bit into Stella's history - this is really just a first glimpse, though, and there will be a lot more detail in the next few chapters.

I hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

"I don't know, Stella," Samantha said, standing next to Stella on the sidewalk in front of a small office building in lower Manhattan the next morning.

"I think it might be helpful for you," Stella said.

"Can't I just handle one problem at a time?" Samantha asked.

"You don't think that they're connected?" Stella asked. "That your feelings about what happened don't contribute to the drinking?"

"Therapy just seems a little extreme to me," Samantha said.

"It's not really therapy, you know. It's just talking to someone, Sam," Stella assured her. "No pressure, no commitments. Just talking to someone who might be able to help you. They've got good people here."

"How do you know?" Samantha asked.

"I started coming about a week after I went back to meetings the last time," Stella said. "It wasn't exactly high on my list of things that I wanted to do, but a woman in my meeting thought it would be good for me - and it did help, even if I wasn't exactly open to it at first. I still come in at least once a week."

"Stella, it's a women's crisis center," Samantha pointed out.

"Yeah, I know that," Stella said. "I was a woman in crisis."

Samantha arched her eyebrows and stared at Stella in confusion.

"It's a story for another time," Stella sighed. "The short version is that I had this boyfriend who turned out to be not such a nice guy and he, well…he tried to kill me."

"Wow," Samantha said, shaking her head. "I never woulda guessed, Stella."

"That's the point, Sam," Stella said. "You think you're all alone, but even if you can't see it, you need to learn that you absolutely are not. You are not the first woman to go through this, and there are people here who understand what you're feeling, who've been where you are."

"Really?" Samantha asked skeptically.

"Just give it a try," Stella encouraged. "Just come in and meet the counselor…that's all I'm asking, it'll take five minutes and I'll be right outside the whole time, I promise."

"Okay," Samantha nodded. "I just meet her today, right? We don't gotta have a talk or anythin' like that?"

"That's it," Stella said. "Just an introduction, that's all you need to do today."

"Baby steps?" Samantha asked nervously.

"Baby steps," Stella nodded, smiling reassuringly as she squeezed Samantha's hand and led her into the building.

* * *

"Can I ask you something?" Samantha asked a few days later, as she sat perched on the edge of the counter in Stella's kitchen, slowly running her finger around the edge of a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough.

"Sure," Stella said. "But you've also got to start stirring and stop eating, Sam, or we're never going to get any cookies out of that batch."

"Don't you know you're supposed to do it this way?" Samantha laughed. "One batch for cooking, one batch for eating."

"Is that so?" Stella asked skeptically.

"That's so," Samantha nodded. "My mom used to tell me that whenever we'd bake her secret chocolate chip cookies. So, my question…"

"Right, go ahead," Stella said.

"My brother still hasn't returned my calls," Samantha said. "How am I supposed to apologize and do this whole reparations step if he won't even call me back?"

"You just do the best you can," Stella said. "You can't control other people, only yourself. The point of the step is to make the best effort that you can, to get to the point that you're okay with it in your heart. Not everyone in your life is going to be receptive to your attempts, unfortunately."

"Who'd you lose?" Samantha asked, setting the bowl and spoon down on the counter as she watched Stella freeze near the sink.

"What do you mean?" Stella asked.

"I don't know, you sound sad whenever you talk about how you can't get everyone to forgive you," Samantha said. "I just assumed that it was because somewhere along the way, you lost someone who wouldn't come back."

Stella nodded, slowly setting the empty bowl she was carrying down into the sink, wiping her hands on her jeans as she turned away from Samantha.

"My fiancé," she said softly. "He was the first person to ever tell me that they loved me, and I fell hard and fast. Even now, he's probably the only man I've ever let myself love completely."

"Oh Stella," Samantha sighed. "Come on, I'm usually the one doin' all the talkin' in this relationship. Tell me about this guy."

"I don't know," Stella said. "It's been almost thirteen years since I last saw him, but some days, it still hurts like it was yesterday. I wouldn't even know where to start, telling you about him."

"What was his name?" Samantha asked.

"Jimmy," Stella said. "Well, James, but I always called him Jimmy…he wouldn't let anyone else call him that, though. It was our little thing."

"Where'd you meet him?" Samantha asked curiously.

"In college," Stella said. "He was a year ahead of me…we met in the library, of all places, the second week of my freshman year. You know what, hold on…I've got pictures around here somewhere."

"Excellent," Samantha said, hopping off the counter and following Stella into the living room, where they eventually settled onto the couch with the dusty shoebox Stella had pulled from the closet. Pulling off the lid, Samantha removed the first photograph. "Hey, he's hot, Stella, but…oh my God, is this really you? You look so young…"

"It feels like that was a lifetime ago," Stella said, shaking her head as she took the picture from Samantha's hands. "I think this was our first Christmas together."

"How old were you?" Samantha asked.

"I was eighteen, he was nineteen," Stella said. "That's in his parents' living room, I'm pretty sure. I loved his family almost as much as I loved him, really…they were the closest thing I ever had to a family of my own. He told me once that the first time we broke up, his mother didn't speak to him for almost two months, she was so upset."

"Why do these people all look so familiar?" Samantha asked, moving on to a photograph of Stella with a group of about a dozen other people.

"Do you read the social pages at all?" Stella asked.

"I try to avoid it," Samantha said. "Sometimes I glance through 'em when I'm real bored at work. Why?"

"They're in the social pages from time to time," Stella said, trying to brush it off as insignificant. "Jimmy's family comes from a little bit of money."

"Maybe that's it," Samantha nodded, moving on to the next picture. "This one's pretty. Where are you guys here?"

"That's Greece," Stella said, smiling wistfully at the memories. "He took me for the first time right after our sophomore year as a surprise birthday present. He proposed the day before we came back the U.S. That's a picture of us on the island he proposed on."

"Check out that ring…it's gorgeous," Samantha sighed. "Did you get to keep it?"

"No," Stella said, shaking her head. "He offered, but I gave it back."

"Too bad," Samantha observed. "Looks like a pretty damn expensive rock."

"It probably was," Stella agreed. "Jimmy liked to joke that I only said yes because it came in a little blue box, though."

"Oh God," Samantha groaned playfully. "You're one of _those_ girls, aren't you? I'm not sure this relationship is gonna work for me after all, if that's how it's gonna be, Stella."

* * *

"So, which came first?" Samantha asked as she closed up the shoebox and set it on the coffee table. "Did the break-up cause the drinking or did the drinking cause the break-up?"

"I had a problem long before I ever met Jimmy, I think," Stella said sadly, still running her fingers over the faded photograph. "It was hard for him, because I was pretty good at hiding it, so most people didn't know. I was never a social drinker, rarely got drunk in public – but when I was home, that's when the problems would start. I don't think Jimmy really knew how bad the problem was until we moved in together my junior year. He knew I had a problem, sure, he was attentive enough to notice that, but I think the extent of it caught him off guard."

"Is that when you broke up?" Samantha asked.

"It wasn't right away," Stella said. "He spent over a year trying to get me to get some sort of help, but I wouldn't do it. I think he was trying to scare me more than anything else when he moved out the next year."

"Did it work?" Samantha asked.

"It got me to my first meeting, if that's what you mean," Stella said. "The whole time I was in the program the first time, I knew I was there for the wrong reasons…I was really just looking for a way to get back together with Jimmy."

"But he did get back together with you?" Samantha asked. "I mean, did you guys try again before you called it quits for good?"

"Oh, we tried," Stella said. "Believe me, we tried. When he finally did take me back, though, it just wasn't the same…it was like he was watching my every move, waiting for me to slip up. The trust was all gone from the relationship. It didn't stop us from trying for almost two years, but in the end, we went our separate ways."

"You still love him though," Samantha said knowingly, carefully watching Stella's reaction.

"I've never had another relationship like that," Stella admitted. "I think that there's a part of me that will always be in love with Jimmy. I didn't grow up with a family, so Jimmy was the first person to ever make me feel completely loved. For five and a half years, Jimmy was my family and I let my whole world revolve around him. Losing Jimmy almost killed me…ever since then, I've been careful - maybe even a little too careful - with who I let get close."

"What is it you're always telling me? You can't live in the past?" Samantha said. "I think you need a little of your own advice, Stella."

"Probably," Stella sighed.

"Hey, I know what you should do," Samantha said, smiling as an idea occurred to her. "You should meet my brother. You two would be completely perfect together…if you didn't kill each other first, of course, 'cause you're both a little stubborn…"

"Oh, look who's talking," Stella teased.

"Yeah, yeah," Samantha laughed. "Seriously, Stella, you guys would be great together. If he ever starts talkin' to me again, I'm absolutely settin' you up."

* * *

"Alright Stella, all I need is your signature on this report and I can get it to the D.A. and off our docket," Flack said, tossing a case file on Stella's desk early Monday morning.

"How'd you get this done so quickly?" Stella asked in surprise, flipping through the report. "We only nailed the guy Friday afternoon."

"Not all of us are lucky enough to get the entire weekend off, Bonasera," Don pointed out.

"Hey, it's not like it happens all that often to me, either," Stella said. "And trust me, I needed the break, Don."

"Yeah…is everything alright with you, Stella?" Don asked in concern. "You seemed, I don't know, a little distracted last week."

"It's nothing," Stella assured him, rolling her eyes at the look of disbelief in his face. "Honestly, Flack, I'm just worried about a friend, that's all. I promise, it's nothing more."

"Anything I can do?" Don asked.

"No," Stella said. "But I do appreciate the offer. I actually spent the weekend with her – I think we got a lot of things going that are really going to help."

"I hope you had some fun with your time off, too," Don said.

"We made cookies, if that counts," Stella said.

"Depends," Flack said.

"On what?" Stella asked.

"Did you bring me any?" Flack asked, a playful grin on his face.

"Of course I did," Stella laughed, pulling a Tupperware container out of her desk drawer and placing it on the edge of the desk. "Help yourself."

"Don't mind if I do," Don said, grabbing a cookie and taking a bite.

"Well?" Stella asked eagerly.

"You put pecans _and_ walnuts in your chocolate chip cookies?" Don asked in surprise. "And…is that coconut I'm tastin', Stella?"

"Just a suggestion I got from a friend," Stella said. "Are they not good?"

"They're amazing," Don said. "I've just never met anyone else who makes 'em like this, that's all."

"Anyone else?" Stella asked in confusion.

"My mom used to make 'em this way when I was a little kid," Don said. "Chocolate chip cookies were her specialty, actually; she was famous for 'em. She had this secret ingredient that she'd never tell anyone…my dad and I used to guess at it all the time, but I'm sure we were never even close."

"And she still won't tell you?" Stella asked.

"My mom died fourteen years ago, Stella," Don said.

"Oh Don, I'm sorry," Stella said. "I didn't know."

"It's okay," Don assured her. "I gotta say, your cookies taste exactly like hers, Stella…which is strange, 'cause the only person who knows Ma's recipe is my sister, which is why I haven't had them in a long time."

"You aren't close?" Stella asked.

"Our relationship is pretty much up and down," Don said. "More down than up lately. It's a long story, but let's just say, she's probably not gonna be making me cookies anytime soon."

"Well, you can take these if you want," Stella said, offering him the container. "I've got a ton more at home…like I said, I had a friend stay the weekend with me, and we went a little crazy with the baking."

"You sure?" Don asked.

"Absolutely," Stella said, grabbing one last cookie as she handed the container to Flack.

"Well, thanks, Stella," Don said. "You may have just made my week, you know."

"Let's not go overboard on the praise now, Flack," Stella laughed. "They're just cookies."

As Stella watched Don walk out of her office, she smiled and took a bite of her cookie, leaning back in her chair. Almost as soon as she did, though, a sudden thought made her bolt straight up in her chair once again. _No way_, she thought to herself. _Samantha did say that this was her mother's recipe…but still, it has to be a coincidence…right? The odds of Flack's sister and Samantha being…no, it's absurd, absolutely absurd_…

With that thought in mind, Stella grabbed a stack of case files from her large 'to-do' stack and buried herself in paperwork, trying to distract herself from the connections her mind seemed to eager to make.


	4. Family Ties

**A/N:** Merry day-after Christmas, everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, whatever it is that you celebrate this time of year. Sorry for the delay in my updates - I'm sure holiday craziness is something we've all been experiencing these last few weeks! This will likely be the last new chapter until after the new year, as I am going to visit family early next week, and probably won't have internet access for most of that five day trip. I'm taking my laptop with me, though, so hopefully I'll make good progress on some new chapters while I'm away!

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

* * *

"So, my brother called," Samantha said, slumping down in a chair at the table in Stella's kitchen and gripping a mug of hot cocoa as the December snow fell heavily outside the building.

"That's good news, right?" Stella asked, taking a seat across the table from Samantha. "You've been wanting him to return your calls."

"I guess," Samantha agreed reluctantly. "I told him I'd like to see him, have a chance to talk to him face to face."

"What did he say?" Stella asked.

"He invited me to come home for Christmas," Samantha said. "Said he'd talk to Dad, get it all sorted out. He kinda sounded like he really wants me to come."

"Why wouldn't he?" Stella asked. "It's Christmas…you're supposed to be with your family at the holidays."

"We're not one of those families," Samantha said. "We don't do the whole family togetherness thing. The last time we were all together for the holidays…well, I guess it was the Christmas before my mom died, and that was fourteen years ago."

_That's what Flack said,_ Stella thought to herself, sighing quietly to herself. The more she learned about Samantha, the harder it was getting for her to deny the possibility – no, the probability – that of the tens of thousands of people who attended A.A. meetings in New York City, she had somehow ended up sponsoring Don Flack's younger sister. She'd spent the better part of the last few weeks grappling with the implications of that revelation, and had finally decided that, although it certainly had the potential to make both relationships awkward at times, she'd grown too connected to Samantha in the two months they'd known one another for her to sever the relationship now.

"Maybe it's time you all got together again, then," Stella suggested. "It might be nice, especially if it's been so long."

"I don't think so," Samantha sighed. "I mean, yeah, it would be nice to see my brother and all my cousins and stuff, but there's a reason I haven't been home for Christmas since I was sixteen."

"What's that?" Stella asked.

"He'll be there," Samantha said. "Kevin will be there."

"What?" Stella asked in shock. "You mean, the same Kevin who raped you ten years ago? Why the hell would they let him come?"

"I never told anyone, remember?" Samantha said. "He was always like family to my brother, and he always comes for the holidays. That's why I don't go anymore…I just don't think I could stand bein' the same room with that man."

"Maybe if you…" Stella began.

"No," Samantha interrupted forcefully. "I am not telling anyone what happened. That counselor down at the women's center, she says I shouldn't tell anyone until I feel ready, and I'm not ready…I don't know if I'll ever be ready for my brother to know."

"Okay," Stella nodded. "So, did you ask your brother to meet you some other time?"

"Yeah," Samantha said sadly. "But he got all pissed off that I wouldn't come home for Christmas…he though it was 'cause I'm mad at Dad for cuttin' me off, and he told me I was bein' selfish and immature, holdin' a grudge like that. He just…there was nothing I could say to make him get it."

"Give him time," Stella said gently. "He's confused, Sam, same as you were when you first started this whole thing. He doesn't know what's going on with you…yeah, he shouldn't have reacted like that, but in some way, can you understand where he's coming from?"

"I think so," Samantha said. "It's not like I don't want to go…I miss my family so much, it hurts sometimes. But I just can't face all of that right now…I don't think I could handle it if my dad or my brother didn't believe me, if they…if they took his side over mine. I'm not strong enough yet, not for that."

"It's okay," Stella assured her. "It's only been two months, Sam, no one expects you to be strong enough yet…you've already made incredible progress, more than anyone ever could have expected. We're just going to take it one day at a time, alright?"

"One day at a time," Samantha repeated. "I can do that."

"Good," Stella smiled encouragingly. "So, what are you going to do for Christmas?"

"I don't know," Samantha shrugged. "Probably just hang out around my apartment or somethin'. I'm working Christmas morning, but it's only the five to eleven shift, so I'll still have the afternoon."

"Well, I usually work on Christmas," Stella said. "My boss wouldn't put me on the schedule this year, though. Something about working every Christmas of my career violating some sort of departmental policy. I think he just wanted me to actually take a holiday off for once. I talked him into letting me work the morning shift, but that was as much as I could get. So…any chance you'd like to come spend Christmas with me?"

"Really?" Samantha asked in surprise.

"I know it's not a big family gathering, but we could make do," Stella said. "You know, cook way too much food, stuff ourselves silly and pass out in front of the TV?"

"That sounds perfect," Samantha laughed. "I'll make the Christmas cookies, but you'll have to do dinner…I can bake, but I can't cook."

* * *

"So, I hear someone actually convinced you to take a few hours off on Christmas this year," Flack commented the next afternoon as he and Stella drove back to the lab after visiting a suspect's apartment.

"I will have you know, I am taking more than half the day off," Stella said proudly. "I'm only working five hours on Christmas."

"Most people in the department consider that something to be avoided entirely," Flack laughed. "I think you're one of only a handful of cops I've ever met who would actually volunteer to work Christmas."

"Am I at least in good company?" Stella asked playfully.

"Well, let's see," Flack paused for a moment. "I know Mac's volunteered the last few Christmases, and I guess he's a pretty good guy. McDonald down in Vice, he volunteers, and I like him well enough."

"Anyone else?" Stella asked.

"Well, I've never volunteered to work Christmas, if that's what you're gettin' at," Don said. "My old man, he volunteered for a few years."

"Oh?" Stella asked in surprise.

"The first three or four Christmases after my mom died…he always said he'd just been scheduled, but my sister and I knew better than that. It was just too hard for him," Don said sadly. "After my sister ran off, I think that was a wake-up call for him, though. He's been home every year since then."

"Why did your sister leave?" Stella asked, feeling fairly confident that she already knew the answer.

"Who knows?" Don scoffed. "Probably following some low-life boyfriend or somethin'. She never really talks about it, and I've never asked…I'm not sure I really want to know, honestly."

"Why not?" Stella asked.

"She ran away three months after her seventeenth birthday," Don said. "There was no note, no sign of where she might have gone…she just up and left, no warning whatsoever…we just woke up one morning and she was gone. The next time I saw her was probably two and a half years later…I was fresh out of the academy, working the armed robbery task force, and I get this call from the one-six that they'd picked up my sister for a drunk and disorderly, and did I want to come bail her out before they processed her?"

"And you did," Stella said knowingly.

"She's my baby sister," Don shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? Ever since then, she's been in and out of trouble, bouncing from job to job, partying and drinking, and I've been getting her out of trouble every time. She just never seems to grow up and I can't figure out why. Every time I think she's makin' progress, she proves me wrong."

"How's that?" Stella asked in confusion.

"She's been going to A.A.," Don said. "At least, I know she started a few months ago. She's been callin' me for a few weeks, wantin' to get together. I finally called her back a few days ago, invited her to come out to Dad's place with me for Christmas. I thought it might be nice for her, you know, a familiar environment, all our family's going to be there, plus some of our old friends from the neighborhood. She completely balked…she's so pissed off at Dad for cutting her off that she can't even set it aside for one night. Like I said, every time I think she's maturing, she goes and does something childish like that."

"Did she tell you that was why she didn't want to come?" Stella asked.

"Not exactly," Don said. "It don't take a genius to figure it out, though, Stella. Why else wouldn't she want to come home for Christmas?"

"I think that's a question you should ask her," Stella said. "She's been alone for a long time, Don. It's easy to forget how to trust people. Maybe she just wants a chance to ease back into the whole family thing."

"Baby steps or somethin'?" Don asked.

"Something like that, yeah," Stella said. "Just give her time to get to know you again. You might be surprised with the things you learn."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Don asked.

"You're missing two and a half years, Don," Stella said. "Those are probably the years that most shaped her life, too. Did you ever think about what happened to her? Why did she leave? Where did she go? How did she support herself? I mean, she was seventeen, Don. Try to put yourself in her shoes – think about what Samantha must have gone through."

"I guess," Don muttered, pulling his SUV up in front of the lab

"Well, I'll call you if we get anything off those fibers," Stella said, quickly slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind her.

Don shook his head and guided the car back out onto the city streets. He was nearly at his next stop when a frown crossed his face as it occurred to him that he had never actually told Stella his sister's first name.

* * *

"Okay, seriously, what's on your mind?" Samantha asked as she slipped in across from Stella at a booth in the back of the diner where she worked.

"What do you mean?" Stella asked in confusion.

"Come on, I've only got fifteen minutes of break time," Samantha said. "You've had your head up in the clouds about something all day, so you might as well tell me now. You're makin' up my tips if I have to sit here and force it out of you."

Stella sighed, knowing that once Samantha latched onto something, there was no way she was going to let it go.

"Your brother's a cop, isn't he?" Stella asked.

"He's a detective, yeah," Samantha said, confusion evident in her voice. "How'd you know that?"

"Did I ever tell you what I do for a living?" Stella asked.

"I don't think so," Samantha said. "That's part of the whole 'anonymous' thing, right? Don't talk about it unless it's relevant to the problem?"

"Yeah, it is," Stella nodded, silently reaching into her pocket, removing her badge and placing it on the table in front of Samantha.

"Shit," Samantha muttered when she saw the badge. "You work with Donnie, don't you?"

"I'm a crime scene investigator," Stella said. "We work pretty closely on some cases."

"This is…wow," Samantha sighed. "How'd you make the connection?"

"Just things you'd say, things he'd say," Stella said. "After a while, the coincidences just got to be a bit too much to ignore."

"So, now that we know, what do we do?" Samantha asked. "I mean, do I have to find a new sponsor or somethin'?"

"Officially, the program would probably say yes," Stella said. "Personally, I think it's really up to you. If you'd be more comfortable with a new sponsor, someone you were sure didn't know anyone that you did, I certainly understand."

"What if I don't want a new sponsor?" Samantha asked.

"Well, I don't have objection to keeping things the way they are," Stella said. "I just need you to be clear on the fact that everything you tell me is confidential – I'm not going to turn around and tell anyone, even your brother. If you think there might come a time where there's something you need to tell me, but you think you might hold back because of my connection to him, then you need to speak up now and we'll find you a new sponsor."

"It's a little late for that," Samantha said. "I've already told you things I've never told anyone, Stella. And I do trust that you're not going to tell Don…I don't know why, because I really don't trust people, but I do trust you."

"Alright then," Stella smiled. "So, we're still on for Christmas dinner tomorrow night?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Samantha said. "Can I ask you one thing, though?"

"Sure," Stella said.

"Does he know?" Samantha asked. "Does Donnie know that you're my sponsor?"

"No," Stella said. "As far as I know, he doesn't even know that I know you."

"But if he figured it out, do you think he'd make the connection?" Samantha asked. "That he'd figure out where we met?"

"I highly doubt it," Stella said.

"How can you be so sure?" Samantha asked.

"He doesn't know that I'm an alcoholic," Stella said. "No one that I work with does. It isn't exactly something the NYPD looks highly upon, so I keep it quiet."

"What about that relapse that you had a few years ago?" Samantha asked. "Didn't people notice?"

"I've always been what the program calls a high-functioning alcoholic," Stella said. "I was pretty good at keeping the drinking separate from my professional life. I'd been sober about eight months when I started at the academy, and I managed to stay that way almost ten years."

"What happened?" Samantha asked.

"Do you remember how I told that my boyfriend had attacked me?" Stella asked.

"Yeah," Samantha nodded.

"He trapped me in my apartment and tried to kill me," Stella said. "I had to kill him to get out alive. Everyone said I had to do it, I knew there was nothing I could have done, but it still ate me up inside. I started having a glass of wine after work every couple of nights…you know, just to take the edge off. I thought I could handle it, that I wouldn't fall into that trap again…I thought I was stronger, that I just need a little help to deal with everything."

"How long did that last?" Samantha asked knowingly.

"About a month and a half," Stella admitted. "I wasn't dealing with anything, not really, so when the next big thing hit, I fell hard. A woman who I'd worked with for years was murdered…it hit everyone on our team hard, but I just couldn't handle it. I was fine during the day, burying myself in my work, but as soon as I was off the clock, I was at the bar or uncorking a bottle at home."

"And no one ever suspected anything?" Samantha asked incredulously.

"For the first few months, I controlled it pretty well, so it rarely affected my work, and when it did, I was usually able to pass it off as me being tired from working too hard or something like that," Stella said. "Most people never noticed…actually, as far as I ever knew, only two people ever really picked up on anything, and even then, they only knew something was wrong, not what it was."

"Who noticed?" Samantha asked.

"My boss," Stella said. "He's also one of my best friends – we've worked together for years, so I guess it's only natural he noticed the changes. And don't get me wrong, there were changes – I wasn't as sharp with suspects, I was tired all the time, I was coming in late at least once a week…things that never would have happened if I hadn't been drinking."

"Who was the second person?" Samantha asked curiously.

"Your brother, actually," Stella said.

"Don?" Samantha asked in surprise. "Don doesn't notice anything, Stella."

"He did, though," Stella said. "He just thought it was mostly just stress held over from what happened with Frankie, though…Don was the first officer on the scene when the call went out; he rode with me in the ambulance; he stayed with me through all the statements and examinations at the hospital, even when his shift ended…he was actually really sweet about all of it."

"Don doesn't do sweet," Samantha said. "He must really like you, Stella."

"He's a good friend," Stella shrugged.

"Just a friend?" Samantha asked suspiciously.

"Yes, just a friend," Stella insisted. "Don't even think about it, Samantha…I'm your sponsor, you cannot set me up with your brother."

"Why not?" Samantha asked. "Seriously, Stella, I know I complain a lot about him, but when he pulls his head out of his ass, he's not a half-bad guy. You two would be a great looking couple, too."

"Samantha, it just wouldn't work," Stella said.

"Why, because you're still in love with Jimmy?" Samantha asked pointedly. "It's been, what? Twelve years since you guys broke up?"

"Thirteen years Friday," Stella said.

"He broke up with you the day after Christmas?" Samantha asked. "Damn, that's harsh."

"Technically, we broke up before Christmas, but we just didn't tell anyone until after," Stella said. "We didn't want to upset his family at the holidays, and I think he wanted to let me have one more Christmas with them, since they were really the only family I ever had."

"Well, I think it's high time you moved on," Samantha said. "I'm so going to set you and Donnie up someday."

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Stella asked, glancing uncomfortably at her watch. "How long is this break of yours anyway?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," Samantha laughed. "See you tomorrow, Stel."


	5. A Very Merry Christmas

**A/N: **Thank you all for your patience as I worked on this chapter - work has been swamped lately, so I've barely had any time to write. I'm pretty happy with the end result, though, so I hope you all enjoy the chapter! I had a blast writing it, and I do recognize that some of it might be a bit, well, unconventional - especially the last part - so be sure to let me know what you think!

* * *

"Alright, I think that should be the last of the paperwork," Don said, tossing a folder onto Stella's desk.

"Are you off now?" Stella asked, glancing up from her own pile of paperwork.

"Sure am," Don said. "A five hour shift full of nothing but paperwork, and I am more than ready for a few glasses of eggnog."

"You haven't worked Christmas in a while, have you?" Stella asked with a slight smile.

"Not since I was a rookie, no," Flack said. "Why?"

"Well, as the voice of experience here, let me tell you that you should be grateful you had five hours of paperwork today," Stella said.

"How's that?" Don asked in confusion.

"Trust me, nothing kills the Christmas spirit like a bad case will," Stella said. "You try being in a festive mood after a murder-suicide in the first hour of a Christmas morning shift. Paperwork is a blessing on this shift, Don."

"I suppose you have a point there," he agreed. "You headed out?"

"Just finishing up my last report," Stella said, signing her name at the bottom of a sheet of paper, placing it inside a file folder and putting the whole thing in her 'out' box.

"Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee," Don said, opening the door for her as she grabbed her jacket.

"Don't you have to be heading out to your big family dinner?" Stella asked as they made their way toward the elevators.

"Not yet," Don said. "If I get there early, my aunts will just find some ridiculous task for me to do, and I have no desire to be the one stuck dressin' up like Santa again this year."

"You dressed up as Santa Clause?" Stella asked, an amused smirk playing at her lips.

"Only once," Don admitted. "And before you go gettin' any ideas, Bonasera, no, there are no pictures, and no, it will never, _never_ happen again."

* * *

"You can answer that, you know," Stella said, taking a bite of her blueberry muffin and leaning back in her chair as Don's cell phone rang for the third time since they'd walked into the coffee shop.

"It's my sister," Don said.

"So you should take it," Stella said. "Have you talked to her at all since you invited her for Christmas?"

"No," Don admitted. "I'm just not ready to hear more excuses, I guess."

"Still, she's your sister, Don," Stella said. "No matter what happened in the past, she's your sister and it's Christmas day. You don't have to ask her something that might get you an excuse. Just say 'Merry Christmas'. It's as simple as that."

"Nothing's ever simple with Sam," Don sighed, looking down at the phone in his hands.

"Don Flack, you answer that phone," Stella said sternly.

"Or what?" Don asked.

"Or else I will answer it for you," Stella informed him. "And then I will hold it to your ear until you get off your high horse and wish your little sister a merry Christmas. And don't think I won't, because I will."

Don's mouth hung open slightly before he pulled himself together, shaking his head in disbelief as he flipped open his phone and pressed it to his ear.

"Flack here," he answered.

"_Hey Donnie, it's me," Samantha's voice came tentatively over the line._

"Hi Sam," Don said, glancing across the table at Stella, who was still sitting there, arms folded over her chest as though she were daring him to try not continuing the phone call.

"_Are you at Dad's yet?" Samantha asked._

"Not yet," Don said. "I worked a morning shift today, so I'm havin' coffee with a coworker, then I was gonna head out. You change your mind 'bout comin'? I could pick you up on my way out there, if you want."

"_That's real nice, Don, but no," Samantha said, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I, uh, I've already got plans for tonight."_

"Oh?" Don asked curiously.

"_Yeah, I'm havin' dinner with a friend," Samantha said._

"I see," Don said, his tone indicating that he didn't quite believe her, but wasn't going to push the issue right then.

"_I do miss you, Donnie," Samantha admitted. "I was thinkin', maybe you could come over tomorrow? I made Ma's cheesecake for tonight, and there might be leftovers…if you want, of course. You don't have to or anything…"_

"Did you do the homemade crust?" Don asked.

"_As if there were any other way," Samantha scoffed. "Really, I'm insulted you even have to ask, Donnie."_

"Well, I suppose if you did the crust and everything, I might just have to come have a piece," Don teased. "What time?"

"_I don't gotta be at work 'til three," Samantha said. "Maybe you come by for lunch? Say noon?"_

"Yeah, I could do noon," Don agreed. "You still at the same apartment?"

"_Run down little shack in the bad part of Brooklyn?" Samantha asked jokingly. "Yeah, that's me. Home sweet home."_

"Alright, smart ass," Don laughed. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"_Okay," Samantha said. "I'll let you get goin'. Would you…well, tell everyone that I said 'Merry Christmas', alright?"_

"I will," Don said. "And Sam?"

"_Yeah Donnie?" Samantha asked expectantly._

"Merry Christmas," Don said, with a slight smile and a nod to Stella as he hung up the phone.

* * *

"God, you look exhausted," Stella commented as she opened her front door to let Samantha into her apartment later that afternoon.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too," Samantha laughed. "You know who eats out on Christmas morning? Cranky old people and families with bratty, ungrateful little kids who won't stop babbling on about their presents. That's what I spent my morning dealing with."

"I'm sorry," Stella said, taking the bag of cookies out of Samantha's hands and motioning for her to follow her into the kitchen. "Well, come on in and get settled. Dinner will probably be ready in about an hour or so. Who knew a turkey took so long to cook?"

"Have you never cooked a turkey before?" Samantha asked in amusement.

"No, I haven't," Stella said. "Why is that so surprising?"

"I guess it isn't when I think about it," Samantha acknowledged. "You're not exactly Martha Stewart, you know."

"I get by," Stella said with mock indignation. "Besides, we live in New York City. I can get Thai food at three in the morning…who needs to cook?"

"Not you, apparently," Samantha teased. "Although, the turkey does smell delicious, Stella."

"Thank you," Stella said. "And you seem to have made enough dessert to feed an army, so we can start on the cookies while we wait for the turkey."

"That's what they're there for," Samantha said. "Cookies as an appetizer, turkey for dinner and then cheesecake for dessert."

"Sounds perfect to me," Stella agreed.

"Would you mind if I took a quick shower first, though?" Samantha asked. "My hair smells like bacon and eggs, and I don't know how much more of that I can stand."

"Go right ahead," Stella said. "You know where everything is. Feel free to grab some fresh clothes from the closet if you want."

"Thanks," Samantha said, grabbing a cookie from the bag as she made her way down the hall. "Don't eat all the cookies before I get back!"

* * *

Stella smiled and shook her head as she arranged the cookies Samantha had brought on a plate, listening to the young woman singing some very off-key Christmas carols as she showered.

Placing the cookies on the table, Stella turned to check on the mashed potatoes but stopped as her doorbell began to ring. Furrowing her brow in confusion, Stella put her spoon back in the spoon rest by the stove and wiped her hands on her pants. She definitely wasn't expecting anyone, at least not that she could recall.

"Adam?" Stella asked in confusion as she pulled open the door.

"Hey Stella," Adam said nervously, bunching the strap on his messenger bag as he anxiously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry to bother you at home like this…

"Is something wrong at the lab?" Stella asked in concern. "Are you okay, Adam?"

"What?" Adam asked in surprise. "Oh, no, everything's fine, I'm fine…I just, uh, well, you left your cell phone in the lab."

Stella smiled in relief as she saw Adam pull the phone from the outer pocket of his bag and hand it to her.

"I, um, I found it when I was running some prints," Adam explained. "I though, I don't know, maybe you might, you know, need it or something. I didn't have your landline number, and I couldn't call your cell…well, obviously, since I was holding it in my hand and, well, I know you're not working tomorrow, so I thought maybe I should bring it to you."

"I appreciate that, Adam," Stella said, laughing slightly at Adam's endearing ramblings. "Do you want to come in for a minute?"

"Oh, I don't want to intrude," Adam said.

"Nonsense," Stella said. "Come on, you came all the way here to help me out, the least I can do is give you a few Christmas cookies before you head back out into the snow."

"Well, I do love cookies," Adam conceded as he followed Stella into the apartment.

"Hey, who was at the door?" Samantha called out, walking into the kitchen in an oversized NYPD shirt that hit mid-thigh, her damp hair falling around her shoulders and dripping slightly down her back. Seeing Adam standing in the entryway, she stopped short, nervously reaching down to pull at the hem of the shirt.

"Oh, shoot, I'm sorry, Stella," Adam said immediately. "I didn't realize you had company. I mean, of course you have company, it's Christmas, everyone has company on Christmas…I'll just, um…you've got the phone now, so I should just…"

"Adam, it's fine," Stella interrupted him. "Sam, this is Adam. Adam works with me down at the Crime Lab. Adam, this is my good friend Samantha."

"Hi," Adam said, blushing slightly as Samantha smiled at him and nervously returned a greeting of her own, their eyes locking as Stella stepped back to watch the surprising interaction between the two.

"Adam, do you have plans for tonight?" Stella asked.

"Oh, um, well it's Christmas," Adam said, trying hard to come up with an answer that didn't make him sound pathetic or lonely. "I don't know, I guess I'm doing what I always do for Christmas."

"Well, if you're up for a change, I'm cooking a pretty big turkey," Stella offered. "There's no way Sam and I could eat even half of all the food we've got. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Oh, no, I don't want to intrude," Adam said.

"Really, you're more than welcome," Stella insisted.

"I don't know," Adam said awkwardly. "Are you sure I won't be intruding? I mean, you guys already had plans and I don't want…"

"I think you should stay," Samantha interrupted suddenly, plucking up a bit of courage, the butterflies in her stomach confusing her immensely. She wasn't used to feeling anything like this; Samantha Flack was most definitely not the type of girl who got butterflies in her stomach at the sight of a guy…or at least, she never had been before.

* * *

Four hours later, Stella quietly gathered the empty dessert plates off her coffee table and excused herself from the living room, leaving Adam and Samantha sitting side by side on her couch. Setting the dishes down next to the sink, Stella smiled to herself as she heard Samantha laugh at something Adam had said. She was fairly certain that they wouldn't mind if she stayed in the kitchen and did the dishes – they'd been so engrossed in their conversation, they'd barely acknowledged her movement as she'd left the room.

As Samantha's laughter died down, Adam smiled at the way her hair fell haphazardly around her face as she caught her breath, finally looking up at him, a smile lighting up her face.

"This is nice," he commented. "Thanks for letting me stay for dinner."

"Are you kidding me?" Samantha asked. "We should be thanking you…can you really imagine me and Stella tryin' to eat all that food by ourselves?"

"I guess you guys did have an awful lot of food," Adam agreed. "Do you do this every year?"

"Nah, this is a first for me," Samantha said. "Of course, I only met Stella a few months ago, so that could have somethin' to do with it. I used to spend Christmas gettin'…well, let's just say it was pretty different than tonight."

"How exactly do you know Stella?" Adam asked curiously.

"She's my sponsor," Samantha said automatically, not even thinking about who she was talking to.

"Your sponsor?" Adam asked in confusion. "Hold on, you mean like they have in A.A.?"

"Damn it!" Samantha exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth as she realized exactly what she'd said. "She told me no one she works with knows about that! Damn it all, ya give me one little ounce of trust and what do I do with it? Blow it at the first chance!"

"Sam, it's okay, relax," Adam assured her. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

"You're not?" Samantha asked in surprise.

"Not even Stella," Adam emphasized. "It'll be our little secret."

"Why would you do that?" Samantha asked.

"Why would I tell?" Adam asked in reply. "Look, everyone has secrets, Sam. We've all got things we don't want other people to know about us; that's normal…at least, I think that it is. If Stella's secret is that she's an alcoholic, that's her business, not mine. She's obviously been sober for a while, seeing as she's your sponsor. There's no reason for me to bring it up since there's clearly no reason for me to be concerned."

"And what about me?" Samantha asked tentatively.

"How do you mean?" Adam asked.

"You're okay with Stella bein' an alcoholic, but what about me?" Samantha asked. "Does it bother you? Make you wanna run for the hills or somethin'?"

"Not really," Adam shrugged. "Like I said, we've all got problems, Sam. At least you're dealing with yours…that's a lot more than most people will ever be able to say. I just…do you mind if I ask how long you've been sober?"

"Ninety-four days," Samantha said proudly. "I know, it's not a huge amount of time, but it's big for me. I didn't even think I was gonna survive the first week…I actually didn't the first two times I tried the program."

"Hey, the third time's the charm," Adam said.

"I guess it was for me," Samantha agreed. "That third meeting I went to, after messin' up the first two times, that was the one where I met Stella. I almost didn't go to that meeting, but something made me want to give it all one more shot."

"Well, I'm really glad that you did," Adam said.

"Why?" Samantha asked.

"Oh, um, well, if you hadn't, you wouldn't have been here tonight," Adam said. "And then, well, I guess then we never would have met."

Samantha's eyes sparkled as she turned to face Adam, neither one breaking their gaze as they quickly and instinctively closed the short distance between them. Their lips met for only a brief moment before they pulled back, each one silently reassessing the other, praying that they hadn't misread the signs.

Finding the same eagerness in her eyes that he felt was in his, Adam leaned toward Samantha once again, this time slipping a hand around her waist and pulling her closer as he softly kissed her a second time. Samantha smiled as he pulled away and their foreheads rested together.

"Wow," she muttered.

"Yeah," Adam agreed breathlessly. "That was, um…gosh, I hope you didn't think that was inappropriate, or out of line or something, I just…"

"No," Samantha interrupted with a sly smile. "_That_, Adam, was totally appropriate. Just like this…"

And with that, Samantha wrapped her arms around his neck, firmly and confidently pressing her lips to his as Adam leaned against the back of the couch, pulling her toward him as Samantha deepened the kiss.

"Hey Sam, I…" Stella paused as she walked back into the room, letting her words trail off as she caught sight of the couple on her couch, completely oblivious to her presence. Smiling slightly, she quietly backed out of the room and headed back into the kitchen.


	6. Getting To Know You

**A/N:** I'm sorry for the delay in getting this out to you guys...and I apologize for not responding personally to your reviews this time around. I figured in the long run, you would rather have a new chapter than review replies, right? I will say that I'm so happy you guys liked the Samantha/Adam pairing! I wasn't sure how that would go over - I knew I loved it, but that didn't mean anyone else would! I'm excited to pursue that further, as it think it opens up all sorts of interesting storylines. I know I can't wait to write the chapter where Flack finds out! In the meantime, I figured it was high time we had some brother/sister moments in this story, so this chapter is pretty much all Don/Samantha.

* * *

Samantha sighed as she tugged her hair out of a ponytail and let it fall haphazardly around her shoulders. Taking another look in the mirror, she glanced back at the pile of shirts and sweaters laying in front of her open closet, the carnage of the clothing she'd already rejected. Smoothing the hem of the red cashmere sweater Stella had given her for Christmas, she shook her head at the thought of changing yet again, figuring that this was going to be just about the best she could manage that afternoon.

Tucking her hair behind her ears and taking one last look in the mirror, Samantha stepped out of her bedroom just in time to hear the buzzer ringing on the intercom near her door.

"Hello?" she said nervously, her hand shaking as her finger held down the 'talk' button.

"Hey Sam, it's me," her brother's voice rang out, instantly dragging up the memories of the last time he'd stood outside her apartment building. She had to bite back the tears as she wordlessly buzzed him into the building, steadying herself against the table in the entryway as she waited for him to reach her door.

All too soon, she found herself again fighting for breath as her shaky hands unlatched the deadbolt and slowly pulled open her door.

"Hey," she said quietly, not quite trusting herself to say more as she stepped back to let him into her apartment.

"Hi," Don said, seeming nearly as nervous as his sister as she shut the door behind him. "You, uh, you look good, Sam."

"Thanks," Samantha muttered, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other as an awkward silence descended on the two of them. "Did you…did you want somethin' to eat? I've got lots of leftovers from last night…I could make turkey sandwiches or somethin'. And there's still cheesecake, too, if you want some."

"We could just skip straight to the cheesecake," Don suggested.

"I thought you might say that," Samantha laughed, leading him into the kitchen and motioning for him to take a seat at the small table. "You want plates or straight from the pan?"

"Have we ever eaten Ma's cheesecake on plates?" Don asked skeptically.

"Good point," Samantha said, placing the pan in the middle of the table and handing Don a fork. "Dig in."

"Remember the year we stayed up all night on Christmas Eve, just eatin' Ma's cheesecake and talkin'?" Don asked. "You, me, a couple of the cousins…"

"I remember Ma bein' royally pissed off when she woke up and found out that we'd eaten two of the four cheesecakes she'd made for the family dinner," Samantha said, smiling at the memory.

"She was pretty upset, wasn't she?" Don laughed, putting another forkful of the cake in his mouth. "Remember Dad's reaction?"

"As if I could forget," Samantha said, pausing to put her fork down as she cleared her throat and deepened her voice to imitate their father. "'Damn it, kids, who the hell raised you, wolves? What the hell kind of manners is that? If you had to eat all the cheesecake, the least you coulda done is had the decency to wake me up so I could join ya before it was gone!'"

"Oh my God," Don laughed, putting his fork down as he shook his head in amusement. "That must have been twelve, maybe thirteen years ago."

"Fifteen," Samantha quietly corrected.

"Fifteen?" Don repeated. "Are you sure?"

"It was the last Christmas we were all together," Samantha said sadly. "Ma died right before Easter the next year, remember? After that, Dad didn't really do Christmas…at least not when I was home. When did he start again?"

"Right after you left," Don said. "I think that was a wake-up call for him. You might not believe it, Sam, but he felt real guilty about you leavin'. Guess he blamed himself for not bein' there. Thought maybe if he hadn't been workin' so much, he would have figured out whatever was goin' on with you. I kind of felt the same way, I guess."

"You shouldn't," Samantha said.

"But we do," Don said. "I know it doesn't help me that we don't have a clue what the hell happened…why you left, where you went, all of it…"

"I'm not…I'm not ready to talk about that, Don," Samantha said. "We gotta take this slow, okay? I got a lot of issues I still gotta work through."

"I just feel like I don't know a damn thing about you, Sam," Don said in frustration. "I mean, practically the only time I see you is when you get arrested, or when I'm investigatin' one of your buddies for somethin'. We haven't had a real conversation that didn't involve yelling of some kind in at least a decade."

"And I'm sorry about that," Samantha said. "You think I wanted things to be like this? You think this is how I wanted my life to turn out? I screwed up my life, Don. Me. Not you, not Dad, not anyone else. Me. I made the bad choices, I made the wrong turns, and I've got to be the one who fixes what I broke. Yeah, I got dealt a couple shitty cards along the way…"

"Are you talkin' about Ma?" Don interrupted.

"Ma dyin' was one of them, yeah," Samantha said. "There were others."

"Like what?" Don asked.

Samantha sighed and shook her head. "Not now, Don," she said. "I just…not now."

"Alright, well, when?" Don asked. "Are you ever going to trust me, Samantha? I'm your brother…if you can't tell me, who the hell can you tell?"

"I don't know," Samantha said, tears welling up in her eyes. "Look, I didn't ask you over here so that we could fight, Don."

"Why did you want to see me?" Don asked.

"Because I miss you," Samantha admitted. "I miss havin' you around, Donnie…I know we haven't really had that great of a relationship, but you're my brother. I don't want to lose that."

"We used to have such a good relationship," Don lamented. "You used to tell me everything, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Samantha said. "Things change, Don…it's not that we want them to change, but sometimes, they just do anyway."

"Can I fix it?" Don asked. "What can I do to make you trust me again?"

"I don't think it's your problem to fix," Samantha assured him. "It's me…I'm the one with the issues, Don. Lots and lots of issues. I just…if you could just be there for me, even if I can't always tell you exactly why…"

"Sam, you're my baby sister," Don said. "You know I'm always gonna be there for you…I can't bail you out every time you get in trouble anymore, but that doesn't mean I stop caring, and if you need me, I'm there."

"Really?" Samantha asked.

"Really," Don said reassuringly.

"I, um…I've kind of been having a problem with alcohol," Samantha admitted.

"Oh?" Don asked, feigning ignorance of the situation, not wanting to ruin anything by revealing that he'd followed her to her first meeting.

"I'm an alcoholic," Samantha said.

Don nodded, encouraging her to continue even as he struggled to hide the pain that came from hearing her admit to him what he'd already known. Sure, he'd heard it before, but there was something about hearing it straight from her mouth, directed at him, that made it seem more real, and thus more difficult to hear.

"I've been goin' to meetings," Samantha said. "I'm makin' progress…a lot of progress, Don. I've been sober for ninety-five days now. My sponsor's been real helpful, gettin' me into all the right programs…I feel like I'm gettin' my life back, Donnie, and I want you to be a part of that."

"And I'm here, Sam," Don assured her. "I'll always be here…you just need to let me in. You'll always be my little sister, so no matter what's happened between us, I'm always gonna love you, kid. You're stuck with me."

"I love you too," Samantha said, smiling through her tears. "Now, you gonna eat that last bite of cheesecake or what?"

"Hell yes, I am," Don said, quickly spearing the piece before Samantha could reach it.

* * *

"So tell me, Don," Samantha said, turning to face him as they hung out in her living room later that afternoon. "When exactly are you gonna get yourself a girlfriend?"

"I dunno," Don shrugged. "When are you gonna get yourself a boyfriend?"

Samantha smiled nervously as she bit her lower lip and glanced away from her brother without answering the question.

"Samantha Elaine Flack," Don said accusingly. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No," Samantha said slowly. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Don repeated questioningly.

"Well, I wouldn't call him my boyfriend," Samantha said. "But I have got a date tomorrow night."

"Is this someone you've seen before?" Don asked curiously.

"Just once," Samantha said. "And I'm not really sure that counted as a date, anyway. So it's way too soon for him to be my boyfriend."

"But you like him," Don said knowingly.

"Yeah, I kind of do," Samantha said. "It's just…it's been a really long time since I've been on a date with anyone, so I'm a little freaked out by the whole thing."

"Oh come on, I know you've had lots of boyfriends," Don said. "I've met a lot of 'em down at the station, remember? It can't have been that long since you went on a date."

"Don, none of those guys were boyfriends," Samantha insisted. "Hooking up with a guy at a party when I was drunk off my ass is not the same as going on a date. And it sure as hell didn't make any of those guys my boyfriend."

"I so did not want to hear that," Don muttered.

"Look, I know I haven't exactly been a saint when it comes to men," Samantha said. "That's part of what freaks me out about this whole thing, Don. The last time I was on a real date, I was sixteen years old. I've never had a relationship that lasted longer than a month…hell, I'm not even sure I've ever made it that long."

"Sam, I'm sure everything will be fine," Don said. "This guy, does he seem to like you?"

"I think so," Samantha said. "I don't know, I guess I'm just terrified that the more he finds out about me, the likelier it is that he's just gonna run for the hills. I mean, he knows about the drinking…but what happens when finds out the rest?"

"You mean the part where he finds out all the good stuff?" Don asked. "When he finds out that you're smart, and funny, and kind…and that you've got a big brother who'll kick his ass if he hurts you?"

"Donnie!" Samantha laughed as she smacked him playfully across the chest. "I'm tryin' to be serious here!"

"So am I," Don said. "This guy, what does he do? Is he good enough for you?"

"Good enough for me?" Samantha asked. "I think that question should be turned around, Don. He's a scientist…got a master's degree and everythin'. Real smart guy, and real nice. I think you should be askin' if I'm good enough for him."

"Now there's a ridiculous question," Don scoffed.

"I'm serious, Don," Samantha said, a note of anxiety in her voice. "He's got a good job, a steady income…what do I have to offer? I'm a high school drop-out barely scraping by on my waitressing tips. He's got a master's degree and I don't even have a high school diploma."

"What are you talkin' about?" Don asked. "You went to high school, Sam. You got good grades, too. What do you mean you don't have a diploma?"

"I didn't graduate, Don," Samantha said. "I left home a month before graduation, remember? I never took my finals, never got that diploma."

"I never thought about that," Don conceded. "I always just assumed you got it somehow. You were always the smart one, Sam…I remember Ma even sayin' sometimes that she thought you might be the first Flack to go to college."

"She would have been so disappointed in me," Samantha said.

"What makes you think that?" Don asked.

"Look at my life, Don," Samantha said. "Does this look anything like what she would have wanted? What have I done to make her proud? She wanted me to go to college, and where was I when I should have been finishing school? Some stupid shelter in south Jersey."

"How the hell did you end up in south Jersey?" Don asked.

"You don't want to know," Samantha insisted.

"I do," Don said sincerely. "Don't you get that, Sam? I know you're not ready to tell me everything, so I'll wait…but even if it's hard to hear, I want to know everything that happened. I want to know you, and that's part of you."

"It wasn't really a shelter," Samantha said quietly, not daring to look at her brother as she spoke. "More like a group home sort of thing."

"A group home?" Don repeated in confusion, reaching out and placing a hand on his sister's forearm.

"Yeah," Samantha said, closing her eyes tightly and taking a deep breath to steady her voice before continuing, knowing that once she said what she knew she was about to, there was truly no turning back. "It was a Catholic charity thing, a home for…well, you know, one of those places for unwed mothers."

* * *

Don slammed the door of his SUV, not bothering to stick around to make sure it locked as he stormed across the empty parking garage and into the precinct. He felt as though someone had punched him in the gut, knocking the wind right out of him, and then flipped his whole world on its axis.

The thoughts just kept swirling through his head. Samantha had a child. Somewhere out there, he had a niece or a nephew. He hadn't stuck around long enough to ask too many questions after Samantha had shared her secret. It had caught him off guard, there was no doubt about that. He'd been expecting to hear a lot of things about his sister that afternoon, but that had definitely not been one of them.

He knew he could have handled it better…no, should have handled it better. He should have listened, should have let her tell him every detail that she wanted to share, should have held her as she cried. Instead, he'd frozen. He'd heard her say something about adoption, but by that time, he was already muttering his excuses, telling her had to get to work. He'd seen the silent tears streaming down her face as she watched him put on his coat; there was no denying the disbelief and disappointment in her eyes as he told her he'd call her later. She'd trusted him, she'd finally let him in, and what had been his first reaction? To turn and run. No wonder she'd had a hard time opening up.

As hard as he tried, Don just couldn't wrap his head around it. Samantha had a baby. No, not a baby anymore…Samantha had a ten year old. He knew there was so much more he needed to know. Did he have a niece or a nephew? How far along had she been when she finally left home? Don knew he'd been busy that spring, distracted by his job and his preparations for entering the police academy, but he found it hard to believe that he'd been _that_ removed from the situation unfolding right in front of him.

And then there was the big question, the one Don knew he'd go crazy if he didn't ask, no matter how upset his sister was with him the next time he saw her. There was just something Don had to know: _who the hell was this baby's father?_


	7. As Long As You Want

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait...I think this chapter will be worth it, though! A little Fiesta, a little Sam/Adam...what more could you ask for? ;)

* * *

"Don't take the wrong way," Stella commented as Flack walked into her office that evening. "But you look like crap, Flack."

"Feel worse," Don mumbled, slumping down onto her couch.

"What's wrong?" Stella asked. "I thought you had today off."

"I did," Flack said. "I needed to work."

"Weren't you meeting your sister this afternoon?" Stella asked, suddenly remembering his reason for taking the afternoon off and growing concerned that she hadn't heard from Samantha after their reunion.

"Didn't go so well," Flack sighed.

"You want to talk about it?" Stella asked sympathetically.

"Nope," Don said, slowly rubbing his temples and staring intently at his shoes.

"Okay," Stella nodded slowly. "Do you want to go somewhere else? Grab a bite to eat, maybe?"

"Nope," Don said again.

"You want me to sit with you?" Stella asked, trying to figure out exactly what he was doing in her office.

"Nope," Don said.

"You want me to just pretend like you're not here?" Stella asked.

"Yup," Don nodded, going back to staring at his shoes.

Stella shook her head as a thought occurred to her. "I'll be right back," she said, quickly slipping out of her office and hurrying down the hall to the DNA lab.

When Stella returned a few minutes later, Don barely glanced up as she slipped back behind her desk.

"Where'd you go?" he asked.

"I thought you didn't want to talk," Stella commented, picking up a pen and grabbing a small handful of paperwork out of her to-do pile.

"No, I said I didn't want to talk about what happened with my sister," Flack clarified. "There's a difference."

"I see," Stella nodded, quickly signing her name to the bottom of a page. "Well, you told me to pretend like you weren't here, so that's what I was doing. I do occasionally get out from behind my desk and into the lab, you know."

"I know," Don said, leaning back into the couch as he allowed a tense silence to fall over the two of them.

Stella sighed as she glanced over at him. Something had clearly happened with Samantha that had him deeply upset; she only wished she knew what it was, because she was fairly certain that, whatever had occurred, Samantha was liable to be at least as upset, if not more.

* * *

Adam smiled slightly as he slipped into the back booth of the small diner, quickly shooing away the other waitress as he watched Samantha serving the tables near the front of the establishment.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise as she approached his table. "Suzie says you wouldn't even let her take your order?"

"Figured my tip should go to the person I'm really here to see," Adam said sheepishly as Samantha slipped into the booth across from him.

"I thought we had a date set for tomorrow," Samantha said.

"We did," Adam agreed. "It's just…Stella said she thought you might be having a rough night, so I figured I'd see if there was anything I could do to help out. You know, if you wanted to talk…"

"And she didn't want to come herself?" Samantha asked.

"No, no, I'm sure she did," Adam assured her. "I, uh, she just had this thing…she had to stay at the lab, and she just…"

"Big case?" Samantha asked.

"Something like that," Adam quickly agreed. "Look, I know you don't know me as well as Stella, and you're probably not going to want to talk to me, but sometimes, I think you don't have to talk…you know, just having someone else around, knowing you could talk if you wanted to, even if you don't, that's pretty helpful sometimes, too, I think."

Samantha laughed nervously as she looked down at her hands and smiled slightly. "Are you sure you're for real?" she asked. "I mean, with my past and all…"

"Everyone has a past, Sam," Adam pointed out.

"Yeah, everyone has a past," Samantha agreed. "But I've got a _past_, Adam. Like, bad stuff…stuff that really should scare you away."

Adam shook his head and smiled sadly.

"What?" Samantha asked nervously.

"You're not the only one with a past you'd rather forget," Adam said quietly. "You're not the only one here with a past that pretty much broke them."

Samantha was silent as she stared cautiously at Adam, sensing for the first time that perhaps the hint of sadness and fear she'd seen in his eyes wasn't merely a reflection of what she knew was in her own.

* * *

"Alright, seriously Don," Stella sighed, setting her last piece of paperwork to the side of her desk. "You can't just sit there all night; you've got to say something."

"What's there to say?" Don asked.

"Don't act all innocent over there," Stella said. "You're the one who's been moping around my office for the last hour and a half. I think you could at least tell me what happened with your sister to make you so depressed."

"I'm not depressed," Don insisted.

"Fine, you're not depressed," Stella said. "Morose, then. Angry? Upset? Bitter? Pissed off? Sad? Come on, something is wrong, and you owe me an explanation."

"She's got a kid," Don admitted quietly. "My sister has a child."

"Oh Don," Stella sighed, quickly moving out from behind her desk and taking a seat beside Don on the couch.

"She's got a kid," Don repeated. "My sister had a baby and I didn't even know about. How the hell did I miss that?"

"If she didn't tell you…" Stella began.

"I should have figured it out," Don interrupted. "I knew something was wrong…before she ran away, I knew something wasn't right. I just thought, I don't know, it was typical teenage girl stuff. I thought she'd had a fight with one of her boyfriends or something. And I knew, I knew she had a reputation, I knew she wasn't exactly a saint. But this…I never would have guessed this."

"A reputation?" Stella asked skeptically.

"She drank, she partied, all of that," Don said. "We all did where we grew up…it wasn't exactly unusual. And yeah, we all knew it wasn't exactly the safest lifestyle, but we were just stupid kids having fun. Most of us, we knew where the line was, how far we'd go and when to stop. Samantha, she was always pushin' that stupid line. I guess she just pushed it a little too far."

"What exactly did she tell you about her child?" Stella asked curiously, wondering exactly how much of the story Samantha had told Don.

"Not much," Don admitted. "I didn't stick around all that long to find anything out…I guess you could say I sort of freaked out a bit. I just didn't know what to say, how to react…I kind of screwed it up with her again."

"I'm sure it's not too late," Stella assured him. "You just need to talk to her, listen to what she's ready to tell you, that's all."

"I don't get how she could do it," Don said. "How could she just hand off her child? Just walk away like that?"

"It's not that simple, Don," Stella said. "It's never that simple. She was seventeen…can you honestly tell me that she would have had the support of her family is she was going to raise a child?"

"I would have supported her," Don insisted. "We would have figured something out."

"You say that now, Don, but think about that for a minute," Stella said. "You were what, twenty? Living at home, prepping for the police academy…how the hell were you going to support her if your father kicked her out?"

"I don't know," Don sighed. "I just wish she'd trusted me enough to tell me…that she'd trusted Dad enough to tell him. He woulda been pissed, yeah, but underneath it all, he's a family man. He woulda yelled, he woulda screamed, but he wouldn't have kicked her out. He woulda helped her with that baby, Stella, I know he woulda."

* * *

Samantha sighed as she stuffed her hands deeper into the front pockets of her jeans, staring nervously down at her feet as she and Adam walked silently down the path along the Hudson river, the moonlight glistening on the water as they listened to the muted sounds of the city on one side and the soft rippling of the water on the other.

"I'm still not ready," Samantha said eventually, breaking the silence between them.

"What?" Adam asked in confusion.

"I know this is the part where I'm supposed to be ready," Samantha said. "That's how it works, right? You show up, being your perfect self, and you tell me it's all going to be alright and you distract me for a while…then we end up in this totally peaceful place, and it's just us, and now I know I'm supposed to trust you and tell you everything that's going on…but I'm just not ready and I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"I didn't bring you here so that you'd talk," Adam said.

"You didn't?" Samantha asked in surprise.

"No," Adam said, leading her to a nearby bench and taking a seat beside her. "You just seemed like you had a lot on your mind; a lot you'd probably rather not be thinking about. When I get like that, this is where I come…I just thought it might help you too."

"This isn't just a bad day at work, Adam," Samantha said. "It isn't going to go away just because I spent an hour watching the Statue of Liberty across the Hudson."

"I know," Adam said. "I, uh…it's not about making it go away all the time, you know. I mean, the memories suck, no question, and it would be easier that way…but I kind of think, maybe it's cliché and stupid, but isn't that part of what makes us who we are? I don't know…even if they don't, you can't make the past just disappear…but sometimes, you can push it back a little, make it a little less in your face, even if it is just for an hour while you're watching the water. And I know, that's pretty…well, pretty stupid-sounding, but…"

"I don't think it's stupid," Samantha interrupted.

"Good," Adam nodded nervously. "That's good."

"You know it works both ways, right?" Samantha asked.

"What does?" Adam asked.

"This whole talking thing," Samantha said.

"Maybe we're just both not ready," Adam suggested.

"I think I can understand that," Samantha nodded, leaning over to rest her head on Adam's shoulder. "Can we just sit like this for a while?"

"As long as you want," Adam said, smiling as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and shifted slightly to be a little closer to her. "As long as you want."


	8. Questions Without Answers

**A/N: **Off hiatus! We're off hiatus!! Hallelujah! I know, I am far too excited about finally getting back to this story, but I just have so many fabulous plans for it over the coming chapters. This first chapter back is a short one, just to wrap up where we were before I had to put the story on hiatus (I'm so sorry about that, by the way!). After this chapter, we're going to move forward a bit, but I thought we needed a little chapter here to wrap up the drama of the first set of chapters. I hope you enjoy - hopefully I haven't lost all my fabulous leaders during the break!

* * *

Don sighed as he leaned back, his head hitting the wall behind him with a dull thud as he stared absentmindedly at the apartment door across the hall from where he was sitting on the floor.

Shoving his hands a little deeper into his pockets, his eyes darted anxiously down the hall, looking for the source of the soft footsteps he heard. When a young blonde rounded the corner with a small baby in her arms, stopping a few doors down from where he was standing and disappearing inside an apartment, he sighed dejectedly and pulled back his sleeve yet again to stare at his watch.

_2:43am…damn it, Samantha,_ he thought to himself. _It's the middle of the freakin' night; where the hell are you?_

As hard as he tried to avoid the thoughts, Don couldn't help but assume that she had handled their fight in the worst possible way. Mentally, he was already running through a list of the local bars he knew she used to frequent, trying to figure out exactly where she might have gone, wondering just which alley the cops might find her passed out in this time.

Just as he started to ease himself up off of the floor, another set of footsteps drew his gaze to the end of the hallway, and this time it was a sigh of relief that passed through his lips as his sister stepped around the corner and into his line of sight.

"Donnie?" Samantha asked in shock as she watched her brother quickly stand up and turn to face her. "What are you doin' here?"

"We need to talk, Sam," Don insisted, taking a step toward her.

"What do you got to talk about?" Samantha asked, stepping around her brother and slipping her key into the lock on her front door. "You had your chance to talk, Donnie, and you made it perfectly clear that you didn't want to."

"I'm an idiot," Don said, stepping inside the apartment after his sister. "No, worse than an idiot. I'm a complete ass, Sam. I told you that you could talk to me, that you could trust me…and the moment you do, I let you down."

"Yeah, you did," Samantha agreed, tossing her purse onto the couch and turning to look at her brother. "So what do you want, Don?"

"I don't know," Don admitted. "I have no clue what to say right now. I've been sitting outside your door for almost four hours, thinking about what I was going to say when you got back, and now that you're here…well, I got nothin'."

"Go on," Samantha said. "Say what you're thinking, Don. Ask whatever it is you came here to ask me. Just, hurry up, okay? I'm exhausted."

"It is almost three in the morning," Don pointed out.

"I'm aware of the time," Samantha replied. "I worked closing shift today; I was on my feet from four to midnight, practically nonstop."

"And after?" Don asked curiously. "Where've you been the last three hours?"

"I wasn't at a bar, if that's what you're thinkin'," Samantha said defensively.

"I…of course not," Don stammered, clearly caught in his suspicions.

"I needed to breathe," Samantha said. "I was just sittin' out there, watchin' the river."

"Outside?" Don asked.

"Yeah," Samantha said. "They've got benches right along the Hudson, you know. They're real nice sometimes."

"I know that," Don said. "But Sam, it's December. The high today was thirty-five; it must be fifteen degrees out there right now!"

"I wore a coat," Samantha shrugged. "What do you care, anyway? I've been taking care of myself since I was seventeen, so I don't need you waltzing in here and acting all protective all of a sudden."

"Look, I get that I screwed up this afternoon," Don said in exasperation. "But do you think you could stop hating me for ten seconds and consider that you caught me off guard? That there was pretty much nothing I was less prepared to hear when I came by this afternoon?"

"I could think of a thing or two," Samantha mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Don asked, not entirely catching what she had said.

"Nothing," Samantha said quickly, silently berating herself for what she had nearly revealed. "Look, I don't hate you, Don. I'm disappointed, but I get it. I never really expected you to stick around once you found out the truth; most people don't. I just thought maybe you'd ask questions first, let me try to explain why I did what I did."

"Could we maybe try again?" Don asked.

"I don't know," Samantha said hesitantly, sinking down onto the couch. "I guess we could try. You want to start?"

"I can do that," Don agreed. "How far along were you when you left?"

"Three months," Samantha said, letting out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, relieved that he'd at least started with an easy question.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Don asked.

"What were you going to do?" Samantha asked. "You were so busy getting ready to start at the academy…I couldn't distract you from that. Besides, it's not as though there was anything you could have done about it."

"I could have helped you," Don insisted. "I would have gone with you to talk to Dad, helped you pay for the doctor's appointments, helped you get child support…we could have managed, Sam."

"You don't get it, Don," Samantha said. "Keeping her was never an option, not a real one. It had nothing to do with money and everything to do with me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Don asked.

"Just that I wasn't ready to have a baby," Samantha said.

"You should have thought of that before you went out and got pregnant," Don pointed out.

"Oh, don't you even go there," Samantha snapped. "It's not like you were a saint when it came to having sex, Donnie. You lost your virginity a hell of a lot sooner than I did."

"You don't know that," Don said defensively.

"Francesca Reynolds," Samantha said knowingly. "You were fifteen."

"How the hell do you know that?" Don asked in shock.

"Girls talk," Samantha said. "Especially girls like Fran Reynolds."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Don asked.

"She was a cheerleader, Donnie," Samantha said with a scornful laugh. "A cute, perky, platinum-blonde cheerleader. She was the gossip queen of our school. You did anything with or around Frannie Reynolds and you had to expect that the whole school would know about it by the end of lunch the next day. That's just the way it was, everyone knew that."

"The whole school?" Don asked with a gulp. "Everyone knew that I slept with Francesca?"

"No one held it against you, don't worry," Samantha assured him. "All the other girls were jealous of her, and the guys were totally pissed that it was you and not them. You were kind of a hero for it."

"I can't believe you know about that," Don said, shaking his head in disbelief. "And what do you mean I was younger than you? Don't think I didn't hear stories about what you were doing."

"That's the difference between guys and girls, Donnie," Samantha said. "Girls brag when they have something to brag about; guys brag when they have nothing to brag about and need to overcompensate."

"What are you sayin'?" Don asked. "I beat up Pete Richardson for nothin'? Steve McClaren? Jason Kelly?"

"All total losers," Samantha said. "Come on, give me a little credit, Donnie."

"So who was it?" Don asked. "When was it?"

"I don't really want to talk about it," Samantha said. "It's completely irrelevant to the conversation."

"I think it's the point of the whole conversation, actually," Don insisted. "Does he even know? Whoever he is, did you tell him that he was going to be a father?"

"He had no right to know," Samantha said impatiently.

"He's that baby's father, Sam," Don argued. "That child may not have meant as much to you, but it might have meant something to him, had you given him the chance."

"You son of a bitch," Samantha snapped, instinctively reaching out and slapping him across the face without thinking. "You have no idea…none whatsoever. You think I didn't care? You think handing my baby girl over to another family wasn't the hardest thing I've ever had to do? Damn it, Don, I loved…I still love…that little girl with all my heart, so don't you dare assume that you know anything about what I went through when I had her, because you don't."

"Sam, I just think…" Don tried to explain.

'No, don't even bother," Samantha interrupted. "I should have known you'd side with him. You might as well just leave now, Don. I think we're through here."

"Sam…" Don tried one last time.

"Just don't," Samantha shook her head, the tears streaming down her face as her voice cracked with emotion and she moved to open the door for him. "Just go, Don. Please, just go."


	9. Love Her Anyway

**A/N:** I was so excited to be posting again, I couldn't help but get you all another update as quickly as possible! We're moving forward in time just a bit with this one, as will be clarified in the chapter itself. This chapter sets the stage for some big developments in the next few chapters, so I hope you enjoy where we're going with this!

Thank you to those of you who reviewed the last chapter - there weren't a ton, so I hope I haven't lost all my readers with the long hiatus, and that more of you find your way back to this fic with this update!

* * *

"Okay, spill," Stella said, slipping into a seat across from Samantha at the little downtown bakery they'd recently taken to frequenting for their morning coffee meetings.

"Have you tried the raspberry scone?" Samantha asked innocently. "I think it's new, and it's freakin' awesome."

"Don't you try to distract me, young lady," Stella scolded teasingly.

"Oh God, now you sound like my father," Samantha mocked.

"Take it back," Stella insisted. "I've met your father, and I am not a crabby old man."

"Dad's not crabby," Samantha said. "Maybe strict, but not crabby. He can fun when he wants to be."

"Well, he was crabby the day I met him," Stella said. "Now, back to the point."

"What was the point?" Samantha asked.

"You. Adam. Date last night," Stella clarified. "Spill."

"There's nothing to spill," Samantha said.

"Don't play innocent with me, Samantha Flack," Stella said. "I introduced the two of you four weeks ago. That's twenty-eight days. And how many dates have the two of you been on in those twenty-eight days?"

"Twenty," Samantha admitted begrudgingly.

"So don't tell me you've spent most of the last four weeks with him and you don't have _anything_ to tell me," Stella said.

"I like him," Samantha shrugged. "I really, really like him, Stel."

"That's great, Sam," Stella said happily.

"No, it's not," Samantha said, shaking her head and staring down at her coffee mug.

"What?" Stella asked in confusion. "Why not? You like him, I know for a fact that he adores you. I'm not seeing a problem here."

"Me, Stella," Samantha snapped. "Me, that's the problem. I'm the problem here."

"What the hell are talking about?" Stella asked.

"Look at him and then look at me, Stella," Samantha insisted. "He's got two master's degrees, Stella. _Two_. He's got a great job, he does volunteer work, he's got no hang-ups. And then there's me. Forget a master's degree, I don't even have a freakin' high school diploma! I wait tables at a run-down diner, I'm an alcoholic, I've got enough emotional issues to keep a whole office full of shrinks in business for years. You don't see a problem with that?"

"Sam, listen to me," Stella said, reaching out and taking her friend's hands in hers. "I've known Adam Ross for five years now, and I have never seen him this crazy about someone. When I say he adores you, I'm not kidding. He doesn't care whether you have a piece of paper that says you're smart. He cares about you, and he likes what he sees. Diploma or not, you're a beautiful, intelligent, caring person, and that's what he sees."

"How do you know that?" Samantha asked.

"Because he told me he thinks you're great," Stella said. "And because I happen to know that you used to not be able to drag Adam Ross out of the DNA lab, but he hasn't worked a minute of overtime in the last month. He's been working double-shifts to make sure he has the same days off that you do."

"He has?" Samantha asked in surprise.

"Do you really think he'd do that if he didn't like you?" Stella asked.

"I guess not," Samantha agreed. "But it isn't just that…I've got issues, Stella."

"I know," Stella nodded. "We've all got issues, Sam."

"No, you don't get, Stella," Samantha said, nervously fingering the edge of her mug. "I…like you said, it's been a whole month, and I can't…we haven't…you know…"

"Haven't what?" Stella asked curiously.

"You know…" Samantha sighed, realizing she was just going to have to come out and say it. "We haven't slept together."

"Oh," Stella said, leaning back in her chair as she absorbed that information. "Well, is he pressuring you to?"

"No, God no, he's been great," Samantha assured her. "He said if I thought it was too soon, he'd wait 'til I was ready."

"So what's the problem?" Stella asked.

"I like him, that's the problem," Samantha said.

"I'm really not following you here, Sam," Stella said in confusion.

"I haven't…I just…this is new for me, Stel," Samantha admitted. "I've never, you know, been with a guy that I actually really liked…someone that I could, I don't know, have a future with or somethin'. I don't know how do this, Stella. It's always just been drunken one-night stands, you know? What if I screw it up?"

"You won't," Stella said knowingly. "Just be yourself, Sam. That's what attracted him in the first place. You don't have to rush into the physical relationship, though…just take it slow."

"Any slower and he's gonna bolt," Samantha sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I should just tell him the truth and get it over with. Then he can run before we get too serious."

"What makes you think he'll run?" Stella asked.

"Seriously?" Samantha asked in disbelief. "You know my story, Stella, you know what the truth is…what guy's gonna stick around for damaged goods like me?"

"Don't even," Stella interrupted, squeezing Samantha's hand in support. "You are not damaged goods, Sam, not by a long shot. You deserve to be happy just as much as anyone else. I can't guarantee you that Adam's not going to run…believe me, I wish I could. But I can tell you that he's a good guy, and if anyone's likely to not run, it's him."

"I don't know, I told Donnie part of it and look where that got us," Samantha said sadly. "I haven't spoken to him in a month."

"Has he tried?" Stella asked.

"He called once or twice," Samantha said. "I'm not ready to hear him apologize, though, because it won't mean anything. It's not gonna get us anywhere."

"Why not?" Stella asked.

"He wants to know too much," Samantha said. "I can't tell him the whole story, I just can't…and he won't get it unless I do. So we're sort of at a standstill here, I guess."

"Look, I'm not saying Don's not a great guy," Stella said. "He is, don't get me wrong, he's a really great guy. But your brother has a temper, and he has a tendency to blow things way out of proportion when he lets his emotions get too involved. Adam and Don are definitely not the same, Sam…you can't use one to judge the other."

"So you think I should tell Adam?" Samantha asked nervously.

"When you're ready, yes," Stella said. "If he likes you have as much as I think he does, he won't let it be the thing that ends your relationship."

"I think I'm gonna tell him," Samantha said decisively. "I think maybe tonight."

"Are you ready for that?" Stella asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Samantha admitted. "But I want to be, and I want to take that next step…and I can't do that with this hangin' over my head."

"Well, you know how to reach me if you need me later on," Stella reminded her.

"Yeah, I do," Samantha nodded, pausing before adding with a sly grin, "So, just how much do you think he likes me, Stel?"

"Honestly?" Stella asked with a slight smile. "Sam, I think you are dangerously close to making that boy fall head over heels in love with you, if he hasn't already."

* * *

"What the hell is that smell?" Stella asked later that afternoon, covering her nose as she walked into the locker room in the crime lab.

"Don't even start, Bonasera," Flack snapped from the other side of the bank of lockers. "Don't you even start with me."

"Hey, this locker room is for lab personnel," Stella pointed out. "I know for a fact you have your own locker room down in the precinct that you could be stinking up, Don."

"I don't," Danny grumbled, coming around the corner from the showers, dressed in fresh clothing but still sniffing his arm dubiously. "I don't think the soap helped much, man."

"What the hell have you two been doing?" Stella asked, barely holding back her laughter as she simultaneously fought back the urge to gag violently.

"Solving a murder," Flack said indignantly. "That's what we do, you know."

"And you have to asphyxiate half the lab to do that?" Stella asked in amusement.

"Hey, dumpster diving is important work," Danny protested.

"You two were dumpster diving?" Stella asked in amusement. "You do realize that's what we have rookies for, right? So that we don't have to deal with that…well, pardon the pun, but that crap?"

"I woulda used a rookie, but genius over here," Danny paused, throwing a thumb in the direction of the corner Flack was just coming around. "Genius decided to piss off Sinclair, so we had to do this whole thing ourselves."

"What did you do to Sinclair?" Stella asked curiously.

"Not to him," Flack corrected. "But I may have pissed off one of the mayor's favorite donors by arresting her son and his buddy."

"And apparently Sinclair didn't care that the buddy actually did whack some guy," Danny explained. "All he cared about was the mayor screamin' over his phone to let the Kensington kid go."

"Kensington," Stella repeated slowly.

"Yeah, I know," Flack grumbled. "Kensington Loan & Trust…Kensington Plaza…Kensington Center…bad guy to lose my temper with, right?"

"You're just lucky it wasn't him who killed the guy," Danny pointed out.

"Which Kensington did you arrest?" Stella asked.

"Does it make a difference?" Danny asked. "They're all rich and think they're above the law."

"Which one?" Stella repeated, a bit more forcefully.

"I dunno," Flack shrugged. "I think his name was Edward. Mama Kensington showed up in all her glory to bail him out, though. Should be just finishing up the paperwork now, I guess."

"They're still here?" Stella asked incredulously.

"Well, they coulda been out a long time ago," Danny said. "But Mama chose to spend an hour chewin' out Sinclair…and then she wanted an apology from Flack."

"Did you give it to her?" Stella asked.

"'Course not," Flack said defensively. "I don't got nothin' to apologize for, Stella. The kid was a total punk, definitely guilty of obstruction and royally pissing me off, if nothing else. But Mama Kensington thought she was gonna get an apology, so she wasted her time yellin' at the higher-ups."

"And she's still here? Down in the precinct?" Stella asked again.

"Like I said, should be," Flack said. "Why do you…"

Flack's voice trailed off mid-sentence as he watched, utterly perplexed, as Stella turned on her heel and hurried out of the locker room without so much as a word of explanation to either Flack or Danny.

"Did that make any sense to you?" Flack asked, grabbing a fresh jacket out of Danny's locker and turning to his friend.

"Nope," Danny said. "Maybe we'd better follow her, make sure she's not doin' somethin' stupid?"

"Yeah," Flack agreed, following Danny toward the door. "I tell ya, Messer, that woman confuses the hell outta me."

"You and me both, buddy," Danny agreed. "But you know how this place is – we all love her anyway."

"Yeah," Flack muttered, pausing as he grabbed the door from Danny and made his way into the hall. "Yeah, we do."


	10. Moving Quickly

**A/N:** I think I'm hitting a groove with this chapter...there was so much that I couldn't fit in here that it really shouldn't even be all that long until the next update! Enjoy!

* * *

"Damn, that woman moves fast," Flack grumbled as he and Danny rushed to keep up with Stella as she made her way down to the bullpen.

"And people wonder why we keep her on our baseball team?" Danny asked with a smirk.

"That's not the – hey!" Don exclaimed in surprise, screeching to an abrupt halt as Stella stopped suddenly just inside the entrance of the bullpen. "Geez, Stel, you gotta give us a little warning next time you gonna put the brakes on like that."

"Stella?" Danny asked in concern, quickly taking in the paralyzed expression of fear and surprise, with perhaps just a bit of joy, that was now plastered on Stella's face as she stood rooted to the spot she had stopped in.

"You alright, Stel?" Flack asked, following her gaze across the room to where a crisply outfitted older woman with a decidedly elegant flair was loudly berating Chief Sinclair in front of a not-so-subtle crowd of detectives and officers.

"That's just our perp's mother," Danny informed her. "Baby boy's probably finishing processing right now."

"Man, she's really handin' it to Sinclair," Flack marveled, catching bits and pieces of the extremely one-sided conversation as the sound carried across the room.

"My God," Stella sighed quietly, her first words since she had sped so unexpectedly out of the locker room just a few short minutes earlier.

"Stella?" Flack asked in confusion. "What's goin' on?"

Before Stella could even think about answering, the older woman across the room finally turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of Stella standing on the other side of the bullpen. Abruptly stopping mid-sentence, she left a confused but relieved Captain Sinclair standing alone as she quickly began making her way through the sea of detectives' desks toward the spot where Stella, Flack and Danny were watching her.

"That woman better not be comin' to chew me out again," Flack grumbled. "Got enough of that the first time."

"Shut up, Flack," Stella said, her tone quiet but surprisingly forceful, her eyes never drifting from the approaching woman.

"Well, this is quite the unexpected turn," the woman commented, stopping just a few steps in front of Stella. "Stella Bonasera."

"Hi, Nancy," Stella said nervously, unsure what sort of reception she'd be receiving from the woman.

"You look absolutely wonderful, dear," Nancy observed, shaking her head as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I just can't believe it…in my head, you're practically still a child, but here you are, all grown up. What are you doing here, though? These idiots haven't gotten you in some sort of trouble, have they?"

"Not exactly," Stella said with a little smile, pushing back the edge of her jacket to reveal the badge attached to her waistband. "I joined the idiots, actually. I'm a detective with the crime lab."

"Good Lord," Nancy sighed. "Like I said, you're still that sweet little Columbia student in my head…things certainly have changed since then, haven't they?"

"It's been thirteen years, Nancy," Stella pointed out. "You couldn't expect everything to stay the same forever."

"No, I suppose not," Nancy agreed. "You're happy, though? Healthy?"

"Yes on both," Stella nodded, knowing exactly what sort of 'healthy' Nancy was referring to.

"Good," Nancy smiled, reaching out and pulling Stella into a tight embrace. "I've missed you, my dear; we all have. My James most especially, if it's not too forward of me."

"Nancy…" Stella said cautiously, slowly and reluctantly pulling back from the hug.

"I know, I know, that was supposed to be over years and years ago," Nancy sighed. "Doesn't mean the boy can't miss you, Stella. We've all missed you."

"I've missed you too," Stella admitted.

"Well, now that we've established that, you must join us for dinner," Nancy said.

"Oh, I don't know…" Stella hesitated.

"I won't take 'no' for an answer, dear, and you know that as well as anyone," Nancy insisted. "Everyone will be so delighted to see you…and James is California this week, if that's what you're worried about."

"He won't be there?" Stella asked.

"He won't," Nancy confirmed. "Please, Stella, you have no idea how much it broke our hearts when he let you go. It's just one dinner, dear, just a chance for us all to catch up, to see for ourselves that you're doing alright."

"I suppose one dinner couldn't hurt," Stella agreed.

"Fabulous," Nancy smiled. "Now, I'll have to get your address – we'll send Martin by to pick you up around six, if that's alright."

"Oh, that's really not necessary, Nancy," Stella assured her.

"Nonsense, I insist," Nancy said.

"Well, I'll probably still be here around six," Stella said. "Why don't you just have him come pick up me up at the crime lab?"

"Alright then," Nancy nodded, pausing as she saw the doors to the processing area open and a smartly dressed man in his early thirties stepped into the bullpen. "Ah, there's my idiot son now."

"Holy hell!" the man exclaimed as he quickly made his way to where his mother was standing.

"Edward, watch your mouth," Nancy scolded. "We're in a public place."

"Gotcha, Ma," Edward said, grinning as his mother grimaced again at his forced accent and over-the-top style. "Now, where was I? Oh, right, holy hell, if it isn't my favorite almost-sister of all time!"

Stella laughed as Edward stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Although she'd have denied it had anyone asked, she had missed feeling like a part of this family more than she could ever have expressed to them.

"Still getting yourself into trouble, Eddie?" Stella asked.

"Hey, you know me," Eddie laughed. "Someone else used to join me in my trouble-making ways, you know."

"Some people grow up, Eddie," Stella pointed out.

"Yeah, and you and James sure grew up," Eddie agreed. "Mr. Big Business and now you, a cop? I swear, the wonders never cease."

"You're lucky I like you, Eddie," Stella said. "Anyone else used that attitude with me, I'd deck him."

"You couldn't hit me," Eddie teased.

"Don't tempt me, Eddie," Stella said.

"Children, let's behave ourselves," Nancy scolded. "I swear, it's like you never left, Stella. Now, if you'll excuse us, I have to take my delinquent son home and give him a good talking to. We'll see you tonight?"

"I promise," Stella assured her, accepting the quick kiss on the cheek and small hug that Nancy offered before turning and leading her son out of the precinct.

"What the hell was that?" Danny asked in confusion.

"Did you seriously just agree to have dinner with those clowns?" Flack asked.

"They're my family," Stella said quietly, shaking her head and smiling slightly as she pushed past the two men and exited the bullpen.

"I thought she didn't have family," Flack muttered as he watched her leave.

"She don't," Danny agreed. "She was a foster kid."

"I am so confused," Flack said, shaking his head.

"Join the club, buddy," Danny said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Join the club."

* * *

That evening, Samantha stood in Adam's kitchen after dinner, silently and absentmindedly drying the dishes he was handing her, her thoughts preoccupied with what she knew was finally ready to tell him. The only question left in her mind was whether he was ready to hear it, and she knew there was only way to answer that question.

"You're a pretty great guy, Adam," she said suddenly, putting the last dish on the counter and turning to face him. "You know that, right?"

"Oh," Adam said, a hint of sadness in his voice as he pulled the plug in the sink and watched the dirty water slowly swirl down the drain. "This is it?"

"This is what?" Samantha asked in confusion.

"You know…you're, uh, you're breaking up with me," Adam said.

"What?" Samantha asked in surprise, instantly shaking her head vigorously. "God, no, why would you think that?"

"It's, uh, well, not the first time I've had this conversation," Adam shrugged, still focusing his gaze intently on the nearly empty sink in front of him. "It's the same, every time…_you're a great guy, Adam, but this just isn't working for me. _Or, um, _you're a really great guy, Adam, but I just don't think there's a future for us_. There's, uh, always a 'but' after a sentence like that and…well, it never ends happily for me."

"Adam, I'm not breaking up with you," Samantha informed him, moving so that she was standing right next to him, her body just brushing against his as he slowly turned his head to meet her gaze.

"You're not?" he asked hesitantly.

"Adam, I'd have to be insane to break up with you. You're the best guy I've met since…well, since ever, really," Samantha said, pausing for a moment as a terrifying thought occurred to her. "Wait, did you want me to be breaking up with you? Do you want to break up?"

"No, no, definitely no," Adam assured her. "I just…I don't know, I thought maybe you'd, well, finally seen things."

"What things?" Samantha asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I, uh, I work twelve hours a day in a lab," Adam explained. "I'm the nerd, Sam, I, uh, I spend my free time playing video games and watching science fiction. I went a Star Trek convention one time. And you…you're funny and smart and tough as nails but really sweet…and gorgeous, completely gorgeous, I should have said that first, probably. Girls like you aren't even supposed to look at guys like me, let alone date them."

Samantha arched an eyebrow and stared at Adam for a moment, contemplating what he had said for a moment. Then, gripping the side of the counter for support, she broke out first in a grin and then in fits of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Adam asked in confusion.

"Nothing…it's just, us," Samantha gasped through her laughter, struggling to bring herself back under control.

"What about us?" Adam asked.

"You really spend a lot of time thinking that I'm going to wake up and dump you one of these days because we're mismatched?" Samantha asked.

"Well…yeah," Adam admitted.

"So do I," Samantha admitted.

"What?" Adam asked in surprise. "You think I'd break up with you?"

"You're smart, Adam," Samantha said. "You've got a master's degree and good job with a big future. You've got friends and a great apartment and this whole wonderful life. Look at me…I'm a high school drop out, Adam. I wait tables at a dive of a diner and I live off my tips in a crappy little run-down building in Brooklyn. I'm an alcoholic with no career, no future plans…I barely make it day to day."

"Just because you don't have a diploma doesn't mean you're not smart," Adam said. "You're amazing, Sam…you're probably the smartest woman I've ever met and that has nothing to do with what you learn in books. I know I don't know everything that's going on, but I know that you're also not the only person with issues that are going to come up in this relationship."

"You always say that," Samantha said.

"Because it's true," Adam said.

"So you really don't care that I'm not all educated like you?" Samantha asked.

"No, I really don't care," Adam said. "And you, uh, you really don't mind…mind that you're probably a 10 and I'm, I don't know, maybe a 7 on a good day? That's sort of a mismatch.

"Oh, I don't think I could date anyone less than a 9," Samantha countered, shaking her head with a laugh.

"What?" Adam choked out.

"Which is why it's a good thing that, to me, you're at least a 10," Samantha continued, wrapping her arms around Adam's neck and smiling as he turned back to her and ran his hand along her cheek.

"I left myself wide open for that one," Adam commented.

"You did," Samantha agreed, smiling as Adam leaned across and softly kissed her lips.


	11. Even If There's More

"You look nice," Flack commented as he walked into Stella's office just before six, finding her seated behind her desk, fiddling with her hair with one hand as she glanced over at the small compact mirror she held in the other.

Stella started at the sound of his voice, instantly slamming the compact shut and sticking it back in the purse on her desk, as though she'd been caught in some criminal act.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle ya like that," Flack said, almost amused by her embarrassment at having been caught primping like a typical woman.

"It's fine," Stella said quickly, in a tone that clearly indicated that _she_ was anything but fine with whatever situation it was she currently found herself in.

"So, big dinner tonight, huh?" Flack asked, cautiously broaching the subject he and Danny had been debating and discussing ever since they had witnessed the practically unbelievable scene between Stella and Nancy Kensington down in the bullpen earlier that afternoon.

"It's just dinner," Stella said forcefully, as though for her own reassurance as much as Flack's.

"With your 'family'?" Flack asked questioningly, still confused by the reference Stella had used earlier.

"Look, I didn't mean family as in biological family," Stella clarified. "I just mean…well, it's a little bit complicated."

"Try explainin' it," Flack suggested. "I promise, I ain't as dumb as I look."

"It's not that big of a deal," Stella insisted. "Nancy's just…I guess you could call her an old friend."

"Stel, don't take this the wrong way, but Nancy Kensington ain't exactly the type of woman who's friends with anyone with less than eight figures in the bank," Don pointed out. "So unless you got some secret mega-millions stashed away somewhere, you're gonna need a better explanation than that. And if you do have those millions, would ya marry me?"

"I don't have millions," Stella said, taking a deep breath to steady the nerves that had fluttered up at his words, even when spoken in jest. "You shouldn't think so low of Nancy, though. She's a wonderful woman once you get past the tough façade she has to put up to keep up in the business world."

"And just how did you get past that façade?" Flack asked curiously. "C'mon, Stel, you can't just hug my perp like that and not give me anything to go on here."

"I went to school with Nancy's other son, Jimmy," Stella said.

"Lots of people went to Columbia, Stel," Flack pointed out. "They don't all go around gettin' dinner invitations and teary-eyed hugs from Nancy freakin' Kensington."

"I met Jimmy my freshman year," Stella said. "We spent a lot of time together, and his family sort of took me under their wing when they found out that I didn't really have any family."

"You spent time together," Don repeated. "You mean you dated him."

"What's it to you, Detective?" Stella asked defensively.

"Just tryin' to get the facts here," Don said. "So, was it serious, this thing between you and the Kensington guy?"

"For a while, yes," Stella said, clearly annoyed at Don's line of questioning, letting out a sigh of relief as her cell phone buzzed on her desk. "And that's all you're getting out of me, Don, because my history with the Kensington family is none of your damn business. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dinner to get to."

"C'mon, Stel, don't be like that," Flack said, sighing in defeat as she simply shook her head and walked out the door, leaving him standing alone in the center of her office with nothing to do but watch her retreating form through the glass doors.

* * *

Samantha sighed contentedly as, later that evening, she lay on Adam's couch, her legs curled up under her and her head resting gently on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and holding her close. She knew they were both only pretending to be paying attention to the movie they'd ordered that evening, each silently soaking up the moments spent together in each others' arms. Samantha couldn't help but marvel at the dramatic difference between that evening and her typical Friday night just a few months earlier – if anyone had told her back then that she would ever think that a quiet Friday night in, watching a movie with her boyfriend instead of tearing up the night partying into the wee hours, would be her date night of choice, she would have thought they'd gone out of their mind. And yet, somehow, she felt so much more comfortable and at home here, in that moment, than she ever had on those other Friday nights.

Glancing up to find the credits rolling on the screen, Samantha knew in her heart that it was now or never for the talk she'd been putting off all evening.

"Hey Adam?" she asked hesitantly, unsure exactly how to broach the subject.

"Mmm?" Adam muttered sleepily.

"Do you have a family?" Samantha asked, furrowing her brow as she wondered just how she connected that question to what she needed to get to.

"Um…I guess it depends on your definition of family," Adam said. "I mean, I, uh, obviously I have parents, everyone has parents somewhere. And, uh, I've got a sister – well, a couple of sisters, I guess. So I guess if you're looking at genetics, then yeah, I've got a family. Why?"

"Just curious," Samantha shrugged. "My mother died when I was twelve."

"I'm sorry, Sam," Adam said sympathetically.

"She wasn't even sick, not really," Samantha said. "She didn't feel all that great for a week, so she went to the doctor. A week later they said she had leukemia, and three weeks after that, she was gone. We barely even had time to say goodbye. Nothing was the same after that – we weren't really a family without Ma to hold us together. She was the one we all talked to, the one who organized the parties and get-togethers, the one who yelled at my dad when he worked long hours and made sure everyone was home for corned beef and cabbage on Wednesday nights. Without her, we sort of just fell apart. Dad threw himself into the job so much that we hardly saw him except when they'd force him to take a day off; my brother got kinda withdrawn, we didn't hang out as much – I think our house reminded him too much of her, because he started spending more time at his friends' places than ours, and who wants their little sister taggin' along all the time?"

"It's hard to not have anyone to turn to," Adam said knowingly.

"It wasn't so obvious that it had gotten that bad," Samantha said. "At least, not until I really needed someone…and then I realized that I didn't have them anymore."

"What happened?" Adam asked gently, sensing that there was more to the story that Samantha wanted to share.

"There was this party," Samantha said, her voice starting to shake as she realized that this could very well be the last moment of her perfect relationship. "My brother's best friend was driving me home. He'd always been a nice enough guy, and my dad and brother had sort of adopted him as another member of the family…plus, he was really cute and I had a crush on him. And I thought it would be okay until…until he didn't take me home…"

"What did he do, Sam?" Adam asked nervously, his jaw clenching slightly as he prayed she wasn't about to tell him what he thought she was.

"He took us to this abandoned lot," Samantha said. "And I tried…I ran…but he was faster, and he was stronger…and I said no, I swear I said no…"

"God, Sam," Adam sighed, pulling her a little closer as he shook his head and tried to comprehend exactly what had happened to her.

"That's why I…why you shouldn't want to be with me," Samantha said. "Because I can't…every time I'm with someone, I try not to, but I think about what he did and I just…everyone says it's supposed to be good, but it's not for me…I'm broken, and you deserve better than damaged goods, Adam."

"Damaged goods?" Adam repeated incredulously, shaking his head and reaching out to tilt hers so that she was looking him in the eyes, his voice unusually steady and sure. "No, Sam, look at me – you are not damaged. You are not broken. You are beautiful and strong and smart…you're perfect, Sam, and nothing some sick son of a bitch did can take away from any of that."

"He did, though," Samantha insisted tearfully. "You deserve someone who can give you a whole relationship, and I can't, Adam…I've tried, but I…I just freeze up and…"

"Shhh," Adam whispered, wiping a few tears from her cheek and kissing her softly. "You just haven't tried with the right person, Sam. I'm not going to push you, you know that…and, well, when you're ready, we'll figure it out. We'll take our time, we'll make it work. No rushing, no expectations – just you and me, figuring this relationship stuff out together."

"Together," Samantha repeated.

"Together," Adam assured her. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

"Even if there's more?" Samantha asked nervously.

"More what?" Adam asked in confusion.

"More to the story," Samantha said hesitantly. "It doesn't stop there; it gets worse."

"What else is there?" Adam asked, completely at a loss as to what could possibly be worse than what she'd already told him.

"I ran away from home a few months later because I couldn't tell anyone what happened," Samantha said. "I didn't think my father would believe me; I was sure he'd say I was just feeling guilty about being a sinner. And my brother – Don might have believed me, but then again, he might not have, and I couldn't take that risk, 'cause I don't think I coulda handled how much it'd hurt if he didn't. But they were all going to know that I'd had sex, I couldn't hide that."

"Why not?" Adam asked.

"Because I got pregnant," Samantha admitted. "As soon as I saw that stick turn blue, I knew I had to leave, so I did. I didn't see my brother for something like two years after that, and it was at least four before I saw my dad."

"What happened to the baby?" Adam asked.

"I had her, if that's what you're asking," Samantha said. "Abortion wasn't really an option, not for me…but I couldn't keep her, I was seventeen, I'd left all my family behind, I had no friends left. I found this shelter and they hooked me up with this real nice couple down in south Jersey; they've got the big house and the yard and the dog…the whole family package, and I think she's real happy there, or at least I hope she is. I knew I couldn't…I couldn't be the mother she needed; she deserved so much more than what I could give her…just like you do."

"No," Adam said, shaking his head. "The way I see it, you were _exactly_ the mother that she needed, and everything that she has now, you gave her."

"What are you talking about?" Samantha asked. "I gave her away, Adam."

"That's what I'm talking about," Adam said. "You were smart enough to know that you weren't ready to raise a child, and you loved her enough to do what was best for her. Everything that she has now – the house, the yard, the dog, the family – it's because of _you_, Sam."

"I never thought of it like that," Samantha said. "You really believe that?"

"Trust me, there's a lot to be said for putting your kid first," Adam said, a certain bitterness in his voice Samantha hadn't sensed before. "Not everyone does that."

"Why do I get the feeling we're not just talking about me now?" Samantha asked.

"Oh, uh…" Adam stammered, quickly considering his words, trying to decide just how much he wanted to reveal to Samantha. "Well, uh, my mother was a teenage mother, and she, um, she basically had no business thinking she could raise a kid."

"How old was she?" Samantha asked curiously.

"Sixteen," Adam said. "It, uh, wasn't really her age, I guess. She was just…she didn't care, not really. Not about me, not about my sisters – she didn't even try with us, but she, uh, she never would have admitted that she couldn't do it or that we deserved better. She was just…just a total train wreck, basically. I know it'll sound awful, but…"

"But what?" Samantha asked gently as Adam's voice trailed off in hesitation.

"It's just…okay, look, you loved your mother," Adam said. "And your dad and your brother, they loved her too, because she loved all of you. She took care of all of you and would have done anything for you, right?"

"Right," Samantha said, a bit confused as to what that had to do with Adam's family.

"Your mother loved you unconditionally," Adam continued. "That's what a mother – that's what she's supposed to do. And that's why you all had such a hard time of it after she died. I never had that, Sam. My mother died when I sixteen, but – this is, uh, the part that's going to sound awful, I know – but when the cops came to the house to tell us, you know what I felt? I was relieved. My father – not that he was much of a parent, either – but he actually laughed."

"He laughed?" Samantha asked incredulously.

"There was no love in my family, Sam," Adam said. "My father never loved my mother, she never loved him. If either of them ever loved their kids, they certainly never let us know. I know a lot of bad things have happened to you, Sam, but at least you know that someone, at some point, loved you. I can't even say that – no one's ever loved me, not really."

"I do," Samantha said instinctively, her voice so quiet Adam wasn't quite sure he'd caught what she'd said.

"You what?" he asked in confusion.

"I…well, I…" Samantha stammered, suddenly more nervous than she'd been all night as she glanced up at Adam's face, running a hand softly over his cheek and smiling slightly. "I love you, Adam."


	12. Home Again

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay! Enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

Stella nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again, crossing her arms over her chest and looking around as she stood in the ornate entryway of the Kensington brownstone.

As she waited for the housekeeper to return from announcing her arrival, Stella couldn't help but think of the days when she hadn't needed to be announced, when this house had been the closest thing to a real home she'd ever experienced – back when she came and went without so much as a second look from the staff, when there had been a room set aside specifically for her use and she had spent more time curled up on the couch in the family room than she had at her own apartment. Although it had been years since she'd set foot in the home, she felt almost as though she were regressing back to the frightened teenager who had first walked through the front door nearly twenty years earlier.

A sudden shriek of excitement from just above her pulled Stella out of her memories. Recognizing the sound instantly, Stella looked upward to find a familiar forty-something woman leaning over the railing, her blonde hair falling around her face as she laughed and grinned down at Stella like a giddy teenager.

"I can't believe it's really you!" the woman called out happily as she rushed down the staircase. "Mother said you were coming, but I couldn't believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes!"

Stella laughed as the woman threw her arms around her, holding on tightly as though to convince herself that Stella were really there.

"It's good to see you too, Lana," Stella said as she pulled back slightly. "Look at you, you've hardly aged a day since I last saw you."

"Yes, well, I have an excellent plastic surgeon," Lana laughed. "I just cannot believe it's been thirteen whole years, Stella. Good heavens, I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," Stella said, surprising even herself with how sincere she was in her response. "I've really, really missed you all."

"Well, that's what you get for just disappearing, darling," Lana said. "You know we didn't just love you because you were James' fiancée, right? We loved you because you're you. You would still have been welcome here anytime, even after my stupid brother let you go."

"You know as well as I do how awkward things would have been," Stella said.

"Perhaps," Lana agreed reluctantly. "Well, what's done is done, isn't it? And now, here you are, back where you belong – with us."

"Lana, it's…" Stella began.

"Just dinner," Lana filled in. "I know, I know."

"I must admit, it does feel good to be back here," Stella confessed.

"Well, that's because you're finally home," Lana laughed, wrapping an arm around Stella's waist and leading her down the hall, past the rarely-used formal sitting rooms and into the more casual family room at the back of the house.

"Now this room looks familiar," Stella said, glancing around at the well-worn sofa and chairs. "Don't you people ever redecorate?"

"What, and risk ruining the best room in the house?" Lana asked in jest. "I think not. This room stays exactly as it is. We do add pictures to the wall, though."

"Is that a subtle hint to go admire your children?" Stella asked with a laugh.

"Was it subtle?" Lana asked. "I wasn't trying to be."

"I got it, either way," Stella said, walking over to the wall covered in framed photographs of various Kensington family members and smiling as she wrapped an arm around Lana's shoulder. "Alright, which ones are which? They were all barely walking the last time I saw them."

* * *

"Hey Flack, ya got a second?" Danny asked hesitantly, walking up to Don's desk as he was packing up that evening.

"Sure, what's up?" Flack asked, spinning around in his chair to face Danny.

"It's been buggin' me, what Stella said earlier," Danny said.

"That thing about her 'family', right?" Flack asked.

"Yeah, that's it," Danny nodded. "It don't make sense, right?"

"She said she didn't mean it literal," Flack said. "Mentioned somethin' about the fact that she used to date one of the Kensington boys for a while and the family was real nice to her; it didn't seem like a big deal."

"Oh, it was a big deal," Danny said.

"And you know that how?" Flack asked.

"I kinda googled her," Danny admitted.

"You googled Stella?" Flack asked.

"You ain't gonna believe what I found," Danny said smugly, holding up a stack of printed pages.

"You gonna make me guess, Messer?" Flack asked impatiently. "'Cause I ain't really in the mood."

"Start with this one," Danny said, handing Flack a picture. "Mayor's big charity ball, back in 1990."

"Good God," Flack muttered, looking down at the image of a much-younger Stella, dressed to the nines a hip-hugging red dress, smiling broadly as she leaned against a young man, his arms wrapped intimately around her from behind as he too smiled at the photographer.

"It gets better," Danny said. "This one I gotta read to ya, I wanna see your face."

"Danny…" Flack muttered in annoyance.

"Fine, fine, I'm gettin' to it," Danny conceded. "This here's the social pages from the Times…

_August 12, 1991 – In what is shaping up to be the most exciting story of this summer season, Mr. and Mrs. Richard Kensington have announced the engagement of their son, James Edward Kensington, to his girlfriend of just under two years, Stella Bonasera. The younger Mr. Kensington and his new fiancée became engaged during a family trip to Greece this past month._

_At this time, no official wedding date has been set, although both Mr. Kensington and his fiancée are currently enrolled at Columbia University and it is believed that they will both complete their undergraduate studies prior to their marriage. Whenever the happy event takes place, it is certain to be the social event of the season, rivaled only perhaps by the wedding of Mr. Kensington's sister, Lana, this past April._

"She definitely didn't mention that," Flack muttered, grabbing the paper from Danny's hands.

"I found a bunch more pictures after that," Danny said. "All the way up 'til '95, actually, but never anything about a wedding."

"Unbelievable," Flack commented, setting the article aside and taking the photographs from Danny's hand. "They look real happy."

"I've worked with Stella for six years," Danny said. "I get that she's a private person, but how the hell did we not know about this? I mean, can you imagine if she'd actually married the guy?"

"What, you mean can I picture Stel as a society woman?" Flack asked. "C'mon, Danny, she's not exactly the charity ball, designer clothes type. That's probably why it didn't work out."

"It took 'em six years to figure that out?" Danny asked skeptically. "I don't buy it."

"What do you want me to say, Messer?" Flack asked impatiently. "I know about as much about this as you do, and that ain't sayin' much."

"I dunno," Danny shrugged. "I just figured you and Stella were friends, maybe she'd mentioned something. No need to get all uptight about it, buddy."

* * *

"Well now, you look happy," Stella observed as Samantha slipped into the chair across the table from her, a full fifteen minutes late for their usual morning coffee date.

"I realized something last night," Samantha said, a coy smile on her lips.

"Oh?" Stella asked curiously.

"I may very well have found myself the most amazing boyfriend anyone's ever had," Samantha said.

"You told him?" Stella asked.

"I told him," Samantha nodded.

"And he took it well," Stella guessed.

"Maybe not well, but he didn't run," Samantha said. "He was actually kind of cool about it all. I don't think I'll ever forget last night."

"Did you two…?" Stella asked curiously, sure that Samantha followed her unspoken implication.

"No, we didn't," Samantha said. "I don't think we're ready for that yet, but I think we will be soon…or at least ready to try, if nothing else. I did tell him that I loved him, though."

"You did what?" Stella asked in surprise.

"Hey, I didn't know I was going to say it," Samantha said. "It just sort of came out. Hell, I'm not even sure I knew I loved him until I heard myself sayin' the words. But I do, Stella, I really do love him. And…he said it back."

"Oh my God, I am so happy for you guys," Stella said with a huge smile on her face.

"I still can't believe he didn't run," Samantha marveled. "How did you know he wouldn't?"

"Honestly?" Stella shrugged. "It was a guess. But he's terrified of your brother, and I figured that if me telling him who your brother is back when you two first started going out didn't scare him away, then nothing will."

"Speaking of my brother," Samantha said. "Have you been on a date with him yet?"

"Sam!" Stella exclaimed in surprise. "How many times do I have to go over this with you? I am not going to date your brother."

"Why not?" Samantha asked. "I get that I'm not speaking to him, but that's just me…I may think he's an asshole right now, but he is still an overall good guy. It's not like you've got someone better on the backburner…unless there's something you'd like to tell me?"

"No, there's no one else," Stella conceded.

"You need someone," Samantha insisted. "And why not Don? C'mon, Stel, what did you do last night? Sit around the apartment eating Chinese and watching old movies again?"

"No," Stella said. "I didn't do that."

"What, was it pizza?" Samantha asked.

"I wasn't at home last night," Stella admitted. "I kind of…maybe…I might have had dinner with the Kensington family."

"Kensington," Samantha repeated. "As in, your ex-fiancé? Stella, what the hell?"

"Jimmy wasn't there," Stella pointed out.

"So what?" Samantha asked incredulously. "What were you thinking?"

"I don't know, I saw Nancy and she invited me and I just couldn't say no," Stella said. "They were never part of my problem, Sam, never. They were always so supportive of me…I guess I just wanted to feel like part of a family again."

"And did you?" Samantha asked.

"Yeah," Stella said wistfully. "I really did. I don't think I realized how much I missed them…maybe even more than I missed Jimmy. I know I can't live in the past, but I don't feel like that's what I'm doing – I'm just reconnecting with an old system of support, of people who cared about me, who loved me when no one else ever had."

"Alright, but if you start struttin' around town in Armani and Jimmy Choos and carrying one of those damn ridiculous Louis Vitton bags, I'm takin' you out back and kickin' your ass, got it?" Samantha said with an approving smile.


	13. Things You Don't Know

**A/N:** These next few chapters will be a bit more Stella-focused than the previous ones - don't worry, I've still got big plans for Adam/Sam and there's lots to come for them; we've just got to cover a few other things first to get to that point.

* * *

Stella moved quickly through the halls of the lab toward her office, having only a few minutes left in her shift – and only a short time after that to change and make it downtown for her dinner date with Lana Kensington. Tossing her files into the stack on the corner of her desk, she didn't even glance up as she moved around to reach the center drawer and retrieve her keys.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

The unexpected male voice startled Stella, her instincts kicking in as she instantly straightened up and whirled around, her hand hovering perilously over the holster on her hip.

"Jesus Christ, Flack, what the hell are you thinking?" Stella asked, breathing a sigh of relief as she spotted the detective sitting calmly on her couch. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Flack repeated his earlier question.

"Was I ever going to tell you what?" Stella asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "If you have a question, you'd better ask it, Don. I don't have time to play games tonight."

"Were you ever going to tell me that you were engaged to James Kensington?" Flack asked, noting the way she froze momentarily at the sound of his name.

"My relationship with James Kensington, whatever it may or may not have been, is none of your business," she replied coolly.

"It is my business if his brother is a murder suspect," Flack pointed out.

"I'm not on the case," Stella reminded him. "I have no obligation to report any potential conflict of interest in a case I'm not even assigned to."

"I'm not talking department regs here, Stella," Flack said. "I'm talking about you and me, as friends. You didn't think it was important to tell me that you were going to marry this guy?"

"I told you it was serious," Stella said. "It was also over a long time ago. How did you find out, anyway?"

"Oh, um, Messer may have looked you up on the internet," Flack admitted.

"You googled me?" Stella asked incredulously.

"Not me, Messer," Flack corrected.

"I cannot believe that the two of you would do that," Stella marveled angrily. "What the hell, Don? Do you trust me that little?"

"Well, obviously it was a good move, seein' as you were holdin' back that key bit of information," Flack retorted.

"Key? Key to what?" Stella asked, feeling the angry tears burning in her eyes. "It had nothing to do with your case or your suspects, Don, so what the hell was it key to? Did it ever occur to you that I didn't tell you because I don't tell _anyone_? Or that I didn't talk about it for a reason?"

"Stella, I…" Flack began.

"No, did you even think before jumping to accuse me of God-knows-what?" Stella asked, grabbing her keys from the drawer and making her way to the door, pausing to turn back to face Don for one moment more. "For the record, I told you everything you needed to know about my relationship with the Kensingtons, and that's more than I would have told most people. I didn't go into details because my engagement – or at least the end of it – is a part of my past I'd rather not have to dwell on with anyone."

* * *

"Well there you are," Lana said, smiling as she stood up to greet Stella, who was quickly making her way across the small, upscale restaurant to the table where her friend was waiting. "I was starting to think perhaps you'd changed your mind about dinner."

"No, of course not," Stella assured her, hugging Lana briefly before settling into her seat. "I'm sorry, I should have called; I got held up at work."

"Don't worry about it, you aren't that late," Lana said. "It must be so exciting, being a cop."

"It does have its moments, I'll give you that," Stella agreed. "And I certainly wouldn't want to be stuck behind a desk all day, so there's that, too."

"And personally?" Lana asked with a sly grin. "What's going on there?"

"What do you mean?" Stella asked innocently.

"Well, obviously you aren't married," Lana observed. "What about boyfriends? Is there anyone serious right now? Has there been?"

"No, there hasn't really been anyone serious in a long time," Stella admitted. "I haven't exactly had the best of luck with men in the past few years, so I've sort of ignored that part of my life."

"Well, we will have to change that," Lana said. "You know what they say about all work and no play. You know, James will be in town next week, if you…"

"Lana…" Stella interrupted, a warning tone to her voice.

"I know, I know," Lana threw up her hands defensively. "It's over, you don't want to see him, blah blah blah…but you can't fool me, Stella Bonasera, I saw the way you looked at those pictures last night. You are just as much in love with my baby brother today as you were all those years ago when you accepted his proposal."

"Lana, Jimmy and I were over years ago," Stella insisted. "I am not still in love with him."

"Mmhmm," Lana muttered, taking a sip of her water. "You just keep telling yourself that, darling."

"Okay, I think that's enough about me," Stella said uncomfortably. "Don't you have a child starting college in the fall? Where's she going?"

"Oh, don't start with me," Lana sighed. "That child has been nothing but trouble from the time she started school. I swear, she's the reason I have so many gray hairs."

"You don't have gray hair, Lan," Stella said.

"She's also kept my colorist busy for several years now," Lana laughed. "But seriously, Marissa had her choice of all the top schools – Columbia, Yale, Harvard, Stanford – but you'll never guess where it is she's decided to go, assuming she gets accepted."

"Where?" Stella asked curiously.

"The Naval Academy," Lana said. "She wants to be a Marine."

"Are you kidding me?" Stella asked in surprise. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you, but little Marissa? The one who wouldn't go out of the house without pink ribbons in her hair? The one who screamed when her nail polish got chipped? That Marissa is going to the Naval Academy?"

"That Marissa is a three sport varsity athlete," Lana pointed out. "She's changed, Stella, she's not the little diva she was as a child. I don't know, I guess my baby's all grown up."

"Well, there's certainly no shame in having a daughter in the Marines," Stella said.

"I know that," Lana sighed. "And we've always been supportive of the troops…it's just different when it's your own child, I guess. It sounds horrible – it's not that I think we're better than everyone else or that someone else's child should be making the sacrifice instead of my own – it's just harder when it's your own child, that's all."

"I just can't believe that she's old enough to do that," Stella marveled. "I mean, my God, Lana, she can't be almost eighteen – I remember sitting with you in a hotel bathroom, waiting for the home pregnancy test to find out that you were pregnant with Marissa."

"You feel old?" Lana asked in amusement. "Try being the woman with a child old enough to join the Marines. One of Ethan's friends called me an old lady a few months ago, and I swear, I almost died right there on the spot."

"Ethan's twelve, right?" Stella asked.

"He was born a few months after you and Jimmy split," Lana nodded. "I tried to send you a birth announcement, you know. I actually even tried to call before the baby shower, but you weren't listed, and you didn't leave a number with anyone when you moved out of Jimmy's place."

"I'm sorry about that," Stella said. "I know I just disappeared."

"Why?" Lana asked curiously. "Stella, you and my little brother may not have actually gotten married, but you were a part of our family from the very first moment he walked in the door with you – for six years, you were my sister, my best friend, and then you just up and left with hardly a word. How could you do that?"

"It was the hardest thing I've ever done," Stella admitted. "I lost the man I loved and the only family I'd ever known, all in one fell swoop. But Jimmy…and I…we both thought that it would be easier, keep things simpler for everyone, if we made it a clean split."

"I wish you'd at least given the rest of us the choice," Lana said. "I think I get why you didn't, but I don't think it's a very good reason. I think we all would have liked to have the choice to keep both of you in our lives, even if we had to do it separately."

"Maybe we should have," Stella said with a sigh.

"And for the record, I think giving back that gorgeous ring was stupid, Stella," Lana pointed out. "For heaven's sake, what did you think he was going to do with a diamond ring?"

"I don't know, sell it?" Stella shrugged. "He gave it to me when we got engaged; when that ended, it would have been wrong for me to keep it."

"You always were too nice about some things, Stel," Lana said.

"Out of curiosity, though," Stella said slowly. "What exactly _did_ Jimmy do with the ring?"

"He still has it," Lana said, watching with a satisfied smirk as Stella's eyes lit up at the thought.

"He kept it?" Stella asked, a bit of a lump in her throat.

"He did," Lana nodded. "You know, he put it on the chain after you gave it back, and he started wearing it around his neck, under his shirt where he thought no one could see it. He still does that some days – it's how I know if he's having a bad day, if I can see the edge of the chain near his collar."

"He does?" Stella asked in surprise. "His…his girlfriend doesn't mind that?"

"Oh, James doesn't have a girlfriend," Lana said. "I don't think he's had a long-term relationship since…well, since the two of you split up, to be honest."

"But what…" Stella began.

"Oh, you mean the pictures?" Lana interrupted knowingly. "James always has a date for public functions, but just because Liz Smith writes that 'James Kensington attended with his new girlfriend' doesn't mean that she's actually his girlfriend. He can't really commit to a woman these days."

"Why not?" Stella asked.

"Because he's still hopelessly in love with you, that's why," Lana said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Breaking up with you was probably the stupidest thing he ever did."

"Lana, he had good reason," Stella said.

"I know, I know," Lana sighed. "That doesn't mean that he doesn't regret it, though, or that he loved you any less. You ought to at least come over and see him when he's in town, Stel. You can't say you haven't missed him."

"I never said I didn't miss him," Stella said. "But I just think it might be too hard, you know? Seeing him again, stirring up old feelings, old hurts…"

"Look, I won't push you into anything you don't want to do," Lana said. "If you don't want to see James, I'll make sure he's not around when you're coming over. But just do me a favor, would you? Just think about it?"

"I can do that," Stella agreed, pausing as her phone began vibrating in her pocket. Pulling it out and glancing at the text on the screen, she sighed and looked up apologetically at Lana.

"Work?" Lana asked knowingly.

"How'd you know?" Stella asked.

"I've seen that look a thousand times on the faces of my husband and brothers," Lana said. "It's sort of refreshing to see it on a woman, actually, seeing as most of the women in my life are housewives and socialites."

"Well, I'm sorry to have to run off like this," Stella said, reaching into her purse to pull out her wallet.

"Don't worry about it, Stella, it comes with the territory," Lana said. "And put that away, would you? This one's on me."

"Oh Lana, I couldn't," Stella shook her head.

"Stella, we had this argument every week for the entire six years you were with James," Lana pointed out. "Are we really going to have it again? Put your money away, this one's on me. When you have the bigger net worth, you can pay, and I will hold you to that."

Stella laughed and shook her head as she reluctantly tucked her wallet back into her purse and stood up from the table.

"Because that day is just so likely to ever come," she said as she hugged Lana.

"Hey, you never know," Lana shrugged. "You could turn around, get over my brother and marry a Rockefeller tomorrow. Stranger things have happened, my dear."

* * *

"Damn," Danny muttered as Stella ducked under the crime scene tape and into the apartment.

"You got something to say, Danny?" Stella asked, a hand on her hip as she turned to face him.

"Can't say I've ever seen a detective show up at a crime scene in pearls and heels quite like that," Danny said. "I didn't even know you owned a set of pearls, Stella."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Danny Messer," Stella pointed out. "Things Google won't tell you."

Danny gulped at the look Stella shot him as she said that and quickly whirled around to where Flack was taking notes from another officer.

"Flack!" he called out. "You told her about that? Why the hell would you do that?"

"Shut up, Messer," Flack muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to the officer.

"Look, Stel…" Danny began.

"I don't want to hear it, Danny," Stella interrupted. "Tell me about the victim."

"I'm sor…" Danny began again.

"Danny," Stella interrupted slowly. "We will deal with that later. Right now, see that woman over there? The one with the torn clothes and the blood around her head? Right now, I'd like you to tell me about her, please."

"Right," Danny nodded. "Uh, Hawkes was just here, went down to get something from the van, I think. He said blunt force trauma to the back of the head is probably what killed her. From the clothes and a quick visual exam, he thinks she was, uh, probably raped before she died."

"Poor thing," Stella muttered, shaking her head as she moved in closer to the body. "Do we have an ID?"

"Renee Patterson," Flack said, coming up behind Stella as she knelt down to get a closer look at the woman. "Age twenty-four, worked as an assistant buyer down at Saks. Address is someplace out in Queens."

"So whose apartment are we in?" Stella asked curiously.

"Name on the lease is Emily Rogers," Flack said. "The neighbors, though, they say they only ever saw a man coming and going – sometimes with a woman, but it was always a different woman with the same man. Not your friendly type, either, didn't talk much, never told 'em his name, nothin' really that could help us."

"Did they give a description?" Stella asked.

"Oh yeah, that part was real helpful," Flack said sarcastically. "Lady two doors down says he was tall, darker skin, a little on the heavy side; guy in the unit next to her says he's short, pale and skinny; lady next to him says, no, he's tall, kinda pale, muscular, not heavy; guy next to her says…well, you get the idea. And not one of 'em thought they could describe him to a sketch artist, either."

"Great," Danny sighed. "So we've got a dead rape victim in an apartment that doesn't belong to her, and all we've got on the guy who probably killed her is a bunch of bogus descriptions and a woman's name that I'll bet ten to one is a fake. Yeah, sounds like a real slam dunk."

"Well, you know what Mac would say, don't you?" Stella asked with a smirk. "We do have one more witness."

"The evidence," Flack said, rolling his eyes as he answered her.

"Exactly," Stella said, flipping open her kit. "Come on, Danny, let's get to work."


	14. Got This Problem

"Alright, let me get this straight," Flack said early the next morning, leaning against Stella's desk while she sat behind it. "We've got the physical evidence – hair, fingerprints, DNA, the whole nine yards. We've got everything we need to land ourselves a suspect but we've got nothing?"

"I can't magically put everyone in the system," Stella said in annoyance. "I want to catch this sick bastard as much as anyone, but there's only so much we can do, Don – Danny and I have been up all night going over and over the evidence. We'll keep looking, but for now, unless you can bring us something to compare the prints and DNA to, we can't give you anything else."

"I know," Flack sighed in frustration. "God, it just pisses me off, you know? She's younger than my sister, Stel…my God, the look on her ma's face when I showed up at her apartment…I think I could work this job a hundred years and never get used to that."

"That's good," Stella said. "When it stops bothering you, that's when you should start to worry. When it stops bothering you, it's when you've stopped caring…at which point, you might as well just hand over your gun and badge, because what's the point if you don't care?"

"I wanna be able to tell that woman the bastard who raped and murdered her daughter is gonna rot in prison for the rest of his life," Flack continued.

"We'll find something, Don," Stella assured him. "It's only been twelve hours since we got the crime scene; something will turn up."

"How can you be so sure?" Flack asked.

"There's no such thing as a perfect crime, Don," Stella reminded him. "It may not happen right away, but one way or another, we will find something that leads us to this guy."

"Where you goin'?" Flack asked, watching as Stella locked the top drawer of her desk and tossed her keys into her bag, grabbing it and moving toward the door.

"Home," Stella said.

"Home?" Flack asked in surprise. "We've got a case to crack, Stel, what do you mean you're goin' home? You can't…"

"I worked a fourteen hour shift yesterday, Don," Stella said. "I got a whole hour and a half off before I was called back in and I've been working all night without a break. Danny, Hawkes and Adam are here, they're perfectly capable of handling things until I get back in a few hours."

"But the case is…" Flack began.

"Don, now is not the time," Stella interrupted impatiently, turning to stare at him on her way out of the room. "I do not need you criticizing my work ethic or my commitment to my cases, got it? What I need is my bed, a few hours' sleep, maybe a decent breakfast…and while we're at it, I'm still pissed off, so an apology from you wouldn't hurt, either."

* * *

Stella groaned as she readjusted the pillow under her head, rolling onto her side and glaring at the clock next to her bed. She'd been home nearly two hours, but in spite of the fact that she was utterly exhausted, she was finding it impossible to fall asleep for even a few minutes. At this rate, she'd be returning to work just as sleep-deprived as she had been when she'd left the lab.

Finally deciding that another half an hour tossing and turning wouldn't be nearly as effective as food, Stella slipped out from under the covers, wrapping herself in her robe before slowly making her way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she sighed as she remembered that she had very little food in the apartment – grocery shopping was yet another item on her overflowing list of things she needed to do the next time she had any spare time at all.

Reaching for the nearly empty carton of milk, she jumped slightly as the doorbell rang unexpectedly. Setting the container back in the refrigerator, she wrapped her robe a bit tighter and headed toward the front door, instinctively pausing at the side table in the entryway to quickly pull open the drawer and confirm that her gun was safely nearby should she need it.

Squinting as she peered through the peephole, Stella felt her confusion turn to annoyance – bordering on anger – when she recognized the man on the other side of the door. Quickly unlatching her deadbolts, she pulled open the door and stared at him, one hand on her hip and the other on the door, as though ready to slam it in his face at any moment.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked wearily, not feeling at all up to whatever conversation he come to have.

"I, uh, I wanted to talk to you," he said, holding out a small bouquet of daisies. "Wasn't sure which ones you liked; figured these were a safe bet."

"What do you want, Don?" Stella asked, ignoring the flowers and staring straight at him.

"I brought food," Flack offered, this time holding up a brown paper bag. "Pesto cheese bagels…and these I know you like, so don't even try tellin' me you don't want 'em."

"The bagels can come in," Stella said, grabbing the bag and reaching behind her to set it on the table. "You still have to go, though."

"But see, I got this problem, and I was sort of hopin' maybe I could talk to you about it real quick," Flack said.

"I'm listening," Stella said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the door frame.

"Can I come in?" Flack asked.

"No," Stella said. "Now, you've got ten seconds before I slam this door in your face. Talk or get lost, Don, it's your choice, but I'm not in a patient mood."

"So, I got this problem," Flack said.

"Yeah, you said that," Stella said impatiently.

"Well see, the thing is, some people have a gamblin' problem, and some people, they have a drinkin' problem," Flack said. "Me, I got a thinkin' problem, Stel."

"A thinking problem?" Stella asked skeptically.

"As in, I don't do it," Flack said. "Things happen, and I just react – I say somethin' or I do somethin', but I don't think about it first…and I should, because when I don't, that's when I do stupid things, like accusin' my sister of sleepin' around, or not trusting that my friend would tell me if I needed to know somethin'."

"So you have a thinking problem," Stella repeated.

"And I'm sorry," Flack said. "I shouldn't have snooped…as a coworker, it was inappropriate; as a friend, it was disrespectful and hurtful and just plain wrong, and I'm sorry."

"Well," Stella sighed, pulling the door open just a bit wider. "They say the first step is admitting you have a problem."

"Yeah," Don nodded.

"Alright, well are you going to stand there all morning, or are you going to come in so I don't eat a days' worth of calories in bagels by myself?" Stella asked.

* * *

Adam smiled as he held his cell phone up to his ear, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the door of the DNA lab, ensuring that he was still alone as he listened to Samantha ramble on about her morning shift.

"Hey, at least the lady left you a decent tip," Adam pointed out. "People around here get mad at me, and all I get is…well, nothing, actually."

"Adam, my man, please tell me you've got some good news for me," Danny called out as he suddenly appeared in the doorway, startling Adam, who nearly dropped the phone as he quickly moved to hide his conversation.

"I gotta go," he whispered in to the phone, smiling reflexively at her response. "I love you too."

Quickly flipping the phone closed and shoving it into his pocket, Adam turned to face Danny.

"Who was that?" Danny asked suspiciously.

"Who?" Adam asked innocently.

"Who were you talkin' to just now?" Danny asked. "Don't even tell me you weren't, 'cause I saw you on the phone, Adam. Who's got you all flustered?"

"No one," Adam muttered, returning to his work bench. "I'm running those DNA profiles from your crime scene now, but I think it's a little early to be expecting a match."

"You told someone that you loved them," Danny said. "Who were you talkin' to?"

"I did run that print you found, too," Adam continued. "Uh, nothing in the system, but it's a really good print if you ever get a suspect…you know, good, considering that it was smudged in blood and all that, of course…"

"Adam, you been holdin' out on me," Danny said in surprise.

"I what?" Adam asked in confusion.

"You got yourself a girlfriend," Danny said with a knowing grin.

"I…uh…I don't…what makes you think that?" Adam asked nervously.

"The phone calls in the middle of the day, the always leaving right at the end of your shift," Danny said. "You just told someone you loved them, and you're gettin' real nervous right now while I'm talkin' about it. That's girlfriend behavior if I ever saw it."

"Oh," Adam nodded.

"So, who is it?" Danny asked. "Do I know her?"

"I, uh, I don't think so," Adam said, not entirely certain if that was a lie or not, but definitely unwilling to tell Danny the whole truth.

"Well, is she hot?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," Adam said without hesitation, causing Danny to laugh slightly at his enthusiasm.

"Good for you, buddy," Danny said, clapping Adam on the shoulder. "Good for you. Man, wait until I tell Montana about this…"

"So, uh, about that DNA…" Adam said, not so subtly attempting to steer the conversation away from the somewhat uncomfortable topic of his personal life.

"Right, the case," Danny nodded. "Okay, so how many DNA profiles did we end up with?"

* * *

"Hey Stel?" Flack asked hesitantly, glancing across the table at Stella, who paused with a piece of her bagel halfway to her mouth, setting it back down on the table as she stared questioningly at him.

"Yeah, Don?" she asked.

"You know I trust you, right?" Flack asked.

"I know," Stella nodded solemnly.

"None of this was about me not trustin' you," Flack said. "I just…I don't know, I guess I just overreacted."

"You did," Stella agreed. "Don, I know you trust me, but you have to understand that part of trusting me is understanding that there are parts of my life, things I have done or will do, that you aren't going to know about – and that I'm not going to volunteer at the drop of a hat."

"I do get that," Flack said. "And I guess I've just gotta get better at trusting that if it were important for to know, you'd tell me."

"I would," Stella agreed.

"I'm sorry, Stella," Flack said again. "Danny and I, we jumped the gun and I'm sorry for that. You're a good friend, Stel…I gotta know that you know I'd never do anything to risk that."

"I know," Stella assured him.

"Good," Flack nodded. "'Cause I gotta say, you really ain't much fun when you're pissed off, Stel."

"So next time, don't piss me off," Stella said with a sly grin.

"Well played, Bonasera," Flack laughed. "Well played."

Stella laughed, shaking her head as she tried unsuccessfully to hide the yawn she was holding back.

"Damn, I forgot you was supposed to be sleeping," Flack said. "Here I am, rambling on and you must be exhausted, Stel."

"It's not a big deal," Stella assured him. "I wasn't sleeping anyway."

"Still, I should let you get some rest," Flack said, tossing his wrapper into the larger brown bag and transferring the whole thing to the kitchen garbage as he stood to leave.

"I'll be back in this afternoon," Stella said, standing up and wrapping her robe a bit tighter as she followed Flack to the front door.

"Take your time," Flack said. "You deserve a little rest, Stel."

"I don't need that long," Stella insisted, noting the way Don was staring intently at her face. "What?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Flack assured her, hesitating just a moment. "It's just…you've got pesto, just here…"

Without thinking, Flack reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand, reaching his thumb up to sweep the crumbs from her face. As he did, he couldn't help but notice the way her breath hitched slightly the moment his hand made contact with her cheek or the way her body leaned in closer to him almost involuntarily, making the magnetic line he sensed between his lips and hers nearly irresistible.

When she reached her own shaking hand up to his, her fingers brushing against the back of the hand that he couldn't bring himself to move from it's place against her skin, he found the 'nearly' part of the equations quickly disappearing.

He wasn't entirely certain who closed the distance between them, whether he had bent his head ever so slightly down toward her, or she had pressed up onto her tiptoes to reach him, but as the centimeters shrank to millimeters before disappearing completely as their lips met, who she would blame when they finally pulled apart was the furthest thing from his mind.


	15. Change Is In The Air

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Stella muttered, leaning back against the closed door, running her hands over her face and back through her hair as she sank to the ground. "Damn it!"

_What the hell did I do?_ she thought to herself, shaking her head and fighting to steady her breath as she closed her eyes and banged her head back into the door.

When she'd been standing there, her body pressed against his, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, there hadn't been nearly enough oxygen flowing to her brain to form a coherent thought about what she was doing. And when they'd finally reluctantly pulled apart, she'd had to grab the door to steady her shaking knees, certain that she must have looked like an idiot to him, standing there in front of him, practically gasping for air like some overeager teenager.

Eventually, Flack had muttered some excuse about needing to get back to the precinct, needing to check up on the progress being made back at the lab, needing to let her get some rest…anything he could come up with, it seemed, to get away. And as she'd reluctantly nodded and closed the door behind him, he'd practically bolted down the hall toward the elevators.

Now, as she sat in silence, staring forlornly at the ceiling above her, willing her thoughts to slow down just a bit, she found herself cursing whichever deity out there supposedly had charge of her love life. Just when she'd begun coming to terms with being alone, when she'd finally decided once and for all that the risk of letting another Frankie Mala or Drew Bedford into her life was just a bit more than she was willing to deal with – well, _now_ the universe chose to throw a monkey wrench or two into her plans.

She'd thought it couldn't get any harder than the emotion of being reunited with the only family she'd ever known, the family she'd thought she'd never feel a part of again. That reunion was a rollercoaster in and of itself, shooting from the highs of renewed friendships down to the heartache of missed years and memories and straight back up again. The frightening – yet admittedly exhilarating – prospect of once again seeing the only man she'd ever truly let herself love was yet another loop she wasn't sure her seatbelt was tight enough to handle.

And now there was this – a searing kiss that had shaken her to her very core, leaving her feeling things she hadn't thought she'd ever feel again, from a man she trusted so wholly and completely, who had just walked away without looking back.

At this rate, Stella was entirely convinced that her safest option was to curl up in bed and hide under her covers for a good year or two – at least – because whatever the universe was going to throw at her next, she was certain she wouldn't be strong enough to survive it.

* * *

"Son of a bitch," Danny muttered as he shook his head and handed the sheet of paper back to Adam. "You're sure?"

"I ran it twice," Adam insisted. "Should we call Stella?"

"Nah, let her rest some, she looked beat," Danny said. "We'd better call Flack, though…he ain't gonna like this."

"It's not exactly a likeable result," Adam pointed out.

"No, I guess it's not," Danny agreed, looking up to see Flack walking quickly down the hall toward the lab. "And speak of the devil, don't even have to call."

"Tell me you found me somethin' on the bastard," Flack said gruffly, not bothering to return the friendly nod Danny gave as he barged through the door.

"What's eatin' you?" Danny asked indignantly.

"Nothin'," Flack insisted. "Now you got somethin' for me or not?"

"Okay, okay, geez," Danny said, tossing up his hands in mock surrender. "No need to bite a guy's head off, Flack."

"Just please tell me you got somethin' that'll nail this bastard," Flack said.

"Well, we got _something_," Danny said hesitantly.

"What, are you waiting for an invitation?" Flack asked impatiently. "I don't have all day here, Messer. Does it help the case or not?"

"_Help_ is, uh, probably the wrong word," Adam piped up. "More like, it _changes_ the case."

"You two gonna stand there and make me play twenty questions today?" Flack asked. "Just tell me."

"We found female DNA at the scene," Danny said.

"Our victim was female, not exactly surprising news," Flack pointed out.

"Four separate female DNA profiles," Adam clarified. "Obviously only one matched the victim; the other three, they're, well, unrelated."

"Three others?" Flack asked. "What exactly are you two sayin'?"

"I don't think our vic was his first victim in that apartment," Danny said. "We've got other victims to look for."

"If he's done this before, where the hell are the other bodies?" Flack asked.

"Could be anywhere," Danny shrugged. "And I didn't say there were other bodies, I said there were other victims."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Flack asked.

"She's the first one he's killed," Adam said, quickly pulling up an image of the crime scene on his computer and nodding to Danny.

"Look at that apartment," Danny said. "That place was crazy-organized, Flack. Everything in it's place. There were gallons of bleach under the sink in the kitchen. Not to mention all the trouble he went to gettin' the apartment in the first place, coverin' his tracks, makin' sure no one knew who he was or that he was there."

"So what?" Flack questioned.

"Look at the crime scene," Danny said. "Everything about our perp screams organized…except that crime scene. There's a footprint in the blood, DNA on her clothes; that's just sloppy. It's not methodical, it's the work of someone…"

"Someone who's scared," Flack filled in. "A perp who didn't expect to kill. He didn't plan, he reacted."

"Exactly," Danny said.

"This table here was the murder weapon," Adam said, pointing to a small coffee table in the corner of the crime scene image. "Her head was forced into the edge. Based on the bruising patterns on her body, she was probably fighting back when he grabbed her and shoved her down."

"And when she hit her head, he freaked and ran," Flack said.

"Again, not exactly," Adam said.

"Do you people never come right out and say somethin'?" Flack asked impatiently.

"He gave her CPR," Danny said.

"He tried to save her?" Flack asked incredulously.

"Did a good job, too," Adam said. "Well, other than the whole her not actually surviving thing, of course. But he was really good at the CPR; didn't break a single rib, hit the right spots exactly."

"Which, according to Hawkes, is pretty damn near impossible if all you have is a weekend CPR cert," Danny added.

"So we're looking for someone with medical training," Flack surmised. "That doesn't exactly narrow down my field, guys. Got anything else? What about the other DNA you found?"

"It's still running," Adam said, smirking a bit as the machine in the corner began to beep. "I love it when it does that."

"Does what?" Flack asked.

"Finds a match right when I'm talking about it," Adam said, spinning around and pushing off the edge of the table, rolling his chair across the room to the machine. "Here you we go, got a hit on one of the three samples."

"Who is she?" Danny asked.

"Jennifer Martinez, age twenty-eight," Adam said, grabbing a page as it came out of the printer and handing it to Danny.

"Served eighteen months for assault three and a half years ago," Danny read from the sheet. "Well, I guess we'd better go talk to her, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't think she'll be much help," Flack said.

"Why not?" Adam asked in confusion.

"If she does turn out to be a victim, she hasn't come forward on her own," Danny said.

"Means either she was drugged and don't remember the attack," Flack said. "Or she's too afraid of the guy to talk to the cops. Either way, she's not likely to tell us much."

"Maybe she's just scared and needs a little encouragement," Adam suggested. "You know, to know that someone's going to believe her if she speaks up? Maybe that's what she's afraid of and she just needs to know that someone will."

"And that's why you work in the lab, Ross," Flack said, not noticing the way Adam frowned and glared just a bit at him as he spoke. "That ain't exactly the way the real world works."

"Still, it can't hurt to be sensitive," Danny agreed. "I'll call Stella to go with you; sometimes these rape victims don't exactly wanna be around guys alone."

"Don't bother," Flack said, waving a hand to stop Danny as he pulled out his phone. "I'll stop by her place, bring her up to speed in person."

"You sure?" Danny asked. "She's already pissed at us, you really wanna show up in person to interrupt her morning off? Do what you want, but it's your funeral, buddy."

* * *

Samantha smiled slightly to herself as she saw the older woman stealing yet another furtive glance down the hall. Shifting her bag of groceries to one hip, Samantha reached into her pocket and removed her key ring, her fingers lingering momentarily on the new silver one in the middle, the latest addition to her tiny collection.

Slipping into the lock and pushing open the door, Samantha paused as she returned the key ring to her pocket, turning to smile and wave at the woman down the hall, who startled slightly as she realized that she'd been caught red-handed in her nosy-neighboring.

She couldn't help but laugh a bit as she set the paper bag on the counter, wondering if this was actually the first time the woman had seen another woman making her way into this apartment. Come to think of it, Samantha irrationally _hoped_ that it was, in fact, the first time the woman had seen that sight.

She knew he'd had other girlfriends; she wasn't naïve enough to have ever thought that she'd be his first, even if he was the first she'd ever really considered her boyfriend. She liked to think she wasn't really the jealous type, but even she would have to admit that it was just easier to pretend there hadn't been others before her.

She didn't like to think that maybe she wasn't the first woman who'd stared in bewilderment as she was handed that tiny silver key while he rushed off to work early one morning. She didn't like to think that someone else might have felt the same butterflies she did when she first slipped it into the lock, wondering why such a tiny piece of metal had her so flustered and thrown. And as she walked from room to room alone for the time, she absolutely didn't like to think that there had ever been anyone else who had made themselves at home in the same way she was.

_Ring…ring…_

"Jesus Christ!" Samantha exclaimed to herself, nearly jumping out of her skin at the unexpected interruption of the phone ringing nearby. Turning around, she quickly spotted the offending device on the opposite counter, her hand freezing just above the receiver.

"No," she declared, withdrawing her hand just as the answering machine clicked on. "We definitely don't have a phone-sharing relationship yet. At least, I don't _think_ we have that."

_Hey, it's Adam_, his voice rang out, filling the apartment with the slightly tinny sound of the recording. _I'm out, obviously…probably at work, which you maybe guessed. Anyway, you know the drill, so leave your name and number and I'll call you back later._

Turning her back to the machine and refocusing on the groceries, Samantha froze with her hand halfway out of the bag as a female voice echoed out through the machine.

_Adam, it's me…Stacey, but I hope you knew that anyway. I know you're probably pretty busy with work and all, but I just wanted to check in, make sure you were doing alright today. You didn't call this morning, and you usually call first thing, so I guess I was just a little worried, that's all. Silly, right? You are in the city, but I'm sure everything's fine and you're just working too hard, like always. Give me a call when you get this, okay, sweetie? You know the number. Oh, and the boys say to tell you 'hi', so hi from the boys. They really miss you…I do too, you know. I love you, Adam._

As the machine clicked to indicate the end of the recording, it was drowned out by the sound of the jar of pasta sauce slipping from Samantha's shaking hand, hitting the floor with a loud crack as the glass shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces around her feet.


	16. Friends

**A/N: **I know, it's a little shorter than usual (not much, I swear!) - this was really the only way to divide the material, though, so I hope you enjoy it even with a little less length this time!

* * *

Adam frowned as he stepped into his kitchen and surveyed the damage, narrowly avoiding setting his foot down on top of a large piece of shattered glass.

"What the…" he muttered, his eyes darting quickly around the room, taking in the red sauce splattered across the floor as a feeling of dread came over him.

"Sam?" he called out hesitantly, moving slowly out of the kitchen. "Sam?!"

A slight rustling sound from the living room caught his attention as he looked anxiously around him for some clue as to what might have happened in the few hours he'd been at work. Quickly making his way down the short hallway and into the room, he felt his fear grow when he spotted Samantha tucked into the corner of the sofa, her knees pulled tightly to her chest and her face red with tears.

"Sam," Adam said softly as he knelt beside her, his heart aching when she flinched away from the hand he reached out to touch her tear-stained cheek. "Honey, what happened?"

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" she whispered, carefully avoiding meeting his gaze for fear of what she might see in his eyes. "Did you think that I was really that stupid? That gullible?"

"What? Sam, what are you talking about?" Adam asked in confusion. "I do not think you're stupid, you know that."

"I trusted you," Samantha continued, angry tears once again streaming down her face as her voice rose. "Do you have any idea how big that was for me? Do you?"

"Yes, I do," Adam insisted. "And I am so happy that you do, Sam, we've gone over this. That's why you just need to tell me what's wrong, let me know what happened. Whatever it is…"

"I don't get it," Samantha said, shaking her head as she stood up from the couch and turned to look down at Adam. "I…my God, do you really think that you can just waltz in here and act all sweet and innocent and naïve…and then I'll just forget that suddenly I'm the _other woman_?"

"The what?" Adam asked in bewilderment.

"Don't you dare," Samantha interrupted. "Don't you dare play dumb with me, Adam, it doesn't suit you. _Stacey_ called while you were at work."

With that, Samantha angrily punched the 'play' button on the answering machine, storming out as the female voice once again echoed through the apartment. Glancing back only briefly before slamming the door behind her, Samantha couldn't even bring herself to feel vindicated as she watched the blood drain from Adam's face and he slumped back against the edge of the sofa when he heard the voice.

* * *

Flack shoved his shaking hands down inside his pockets, willing them to still themselves as he waited for Stella to open the door to her apartment. He couldn't let himself be nervous, not now, not with the conversation he knew they'd have to have before any work could be done.

"Do you have a death wish?" Stella asked wearily, not even bothering to wait for him to reply as she simply left the door open and made her way back toward her kitchen, leaving him no choice but to follow her into the apartment.

"Not really," Flack said.

"You'd never know it, the way you're acting today," Stella said. "What part of I'm going to sleep this morning did you not understand the last four times we've talked about it?"

"We got a lead," Flack offered.

"And you felt the need to come all the way over here instead of calling me and leaving a message?" Stella asked skeptically, turning to face him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Well…I guess I was hopin' we could talk," Flack admitted. "Or somethin'. You know, about that thing earlier?"

"There have been lots of _things_ that happened today, Don," Stella said. "You'll have to be a little more specific."

"C'mon, Stel, you know what I'm talkin' about," Flack sighed. "You know, that thing…the thing where we, you know…"

"Where we kissed," Stella said.

"Yeah," Flack nodded. "I figured we oughtta talk about it or somethin'."

"You want to talk?" Stella asked. "Fine, let's talk. Why'd you leave instead of talking then?"

"Seriously?" Flack asked. "You can't tell me you weren't freaked out too, Stel. I guess I got scared, didn't want to deal with it…it's a pretty big thing."

"Yeah, it is," Stella agreed. "Look, Don, I don't think I can handle…"

"A relationship, I know," Flack filled in. "I get it…I mean, I'm not exactly Mr. Commitment myself, you know? I just…this kinda caught me off guard, sorta a curveball when I wasn't lookin'…"

"Well, it isn't as though it's something _I_ planned," Stella countered. "It just…I don't know, it just happened, and now we have to deal with it."

"Now hold on," Flack said. "It's not like this is some horrible thing, Stel. I mean, you're makin' it sound like it's some awful tragedy that we've just gotta power through."

"Don, you know I didn't mean it like that," Stella said gently, taking a step to close the distance between them. "You know I care about you, you've always been a wonderful friend to me."

_And there it is_, Flack thought ruefully. _The dreaded f-word._

"Yeah, friends," Flack nodded. "Stella, this doesn't have to be a thing. We can just…we can still be friends. We're coworkers, we're friends…we don't have to let one moment change all of that. We are mature adults, after all."

"Well, one of us is, anyway," Stella teased.

"Hey now, watch it," Flack said, faking indignation at the light-hearted jab.

"So we're okay?" Stella asked nervously.

"Yeah, we're okay," Flack said, wrapping his arms around her to offer a reassuring hug, trying to ignore the pull at the edge of his heart that was telling him that this situation was suddenly very much _not_ okay for him.

"So what's this big lead?" Stella asked curiously when they finally pulled apart.

* * *

"Sam!" Adam called out, banging on her door less than an hour later. "Sam, please open up!"

Sighing as he once again received no response, Adam reached down and turned the doorknob, nearly falling forward in surprise as it turned easily and the door opened. Slowly walking into the apartment, Adam felt his heart break a little bit more when he found Samantha sitting on the floor of the kitchen, her body shaking with sobs and a bottle of whiskey sitting in the middle of the floor.

"Oh, Sam," Adam sighed, rushing to her side, lifting her body slightly so that he could wrap his arms around her as he slowly lowered himself to the ground next to her. "Shhh…it's okay, Sam…you're okay…"

As he sat there running his hand up and down her back to soothe her crying, he couldn't help the tiny sigh of relief that escaped unnoticed from his lips when his gaze finally fell on the bottle and found it still unopened.

"I…I hate you…" Samantha sobbed, not bothering to lift her head from his chest. "I hate you…"

"I know," Adam said gently, kissing the top of her head as he did. "I know."

"I hate you for making me care," Samantha continued tearfully. "I hate you…I hate you for making me love you…"

"I know," Adam repeated calmly, tightening his grip around her just a bit as she finally reached her arms up and wrapped them around his neck, burying her head a bit deeper against his chest. "Sam?"

"I still hate you…" she muttered, her tears finally slowing to a steady stream.

"I know you do," Adam said. "But Sam, I love you…"

"Don't," Samantha interrupted, sniffling slightly as she pulled away from him. "Please don't, Adam…don't try to make this go away…"

"I'm not," Adam assured her. "But Sam, you don't understand…"

"I understand enough," Samantha insisted, moving to stand up from the floor.

"No, you don't," Adam said, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly enough to pull her back down to his level, turning so that he was sitting on his knees as he faced her. "You're not the other woman, Sam. Trust me, you're all the woman I can handle in my life. Stacey is just…"

"Don't you dare try to tell me she's 'just a friend,'" Samantha said, her earlier despair being replaced by the return of a bit of the anger she'd felt at Adam's apartment.

"She's not a friend, no," Adam agreed. "She's my sister."

"She's what?" Samantha asked in surprise.

"She's my sister," Adam repeated, wincing slightly as Samantha smacked him across the chest. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You couldn't have started with that part?" Samantha exclaimed, her tears mixing with her laughter and relief as she slumped back against the wall. "Oh my God, I'm such a mess…"

"No, you're not," Adam assured her gently. "Everyone makes mistakes, Sam, everyone has bad days."

"I think this qualifies," Samantha said tearfully. "Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you get rid of that bottle?" Samantha asked anxiously. "Please?"

"Sure," Adam nodded, kissing her gently before easing himself off of the floor. "I'll be right back."


	17. Never Forget

"I hate walk-ups," Flack groaned as he paused, staring up the final flight of steps leading to their destination.

"Don't you live in a walk-up?" Stella asked in amusement.

"Makes me qualified to hate 'em," Flack said, slowly trudging up the stairs. "Seriously, who signs up to walk six flights every day?"

"People who are in better shape than you, apparently," Stella said.

"Hey now, I'm in excellent shape," Flack protested.

"Oh, I know," Stella muttered too quietly to be heard, suppressing a smile as she stared up after him.

"Here we are," Flack said, stopping in front of the apartment door and knocking loudly.

"Can I help you?" a young woman asked hesitantly, opening the door just a crack and peering out.

"Jennifer Martinez?" Stella asked.

"Who wants to know?" the woman asked.

"NYPD," Flack said, flashing his badge at the same time Stella did. "I'm Detective Flack, this is Detective Bonasera. We need to ask you a few questions."

Sighing audibly, the woman nodded, closing the door to undo the latch and then stepping out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

"Make it quick," she said. "I'm watching my sister's kid and he won't be napping much longer."

"Ms. Martinez, we need to ask you about something that might be a little difficult," Stella said, handing her a slip of paper. "Are you familiar with that address?"

"How did you find me?" Jennifer asked, her face paling as she read the address on the page.

"We found your DNA in that apartment," Stella said.

"That don't mean nothing," Jennifer said. "Lots of reasons that could be there."

"True," Stella nodded. "But I think we both know why it was there. I know you're hesitant to talk about the attack, what you might remember or not remember, but you need to know that we're here to help."

"Yeah, right," Jennifer scoffed.

"What happened was not your fault, Jennifer," Stella said. "We're not asking you to press charges, we're not asking you to testify or in any way identify yourself. But a young woman was murdered, and what you might remember about your attack could be the only chance we have of finding her killer."

"Someone got murdered?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes," Stella said. "A twenty-four year old woman."

"Did he…I mean, was she…" Jennifer stammered.

"Yes, she was raped," Stella said. "Jennifer, you're not the only woman he's done this to. We found evidence in that apartment of several other attacks. You are not alone."

"So why aren't you talkin' to those girls?" Jennifer asked. "Why does it have to be me?"

"We haven't identified them," Stella said. "You're the only one who was in our database."

"Right," Jennifer nodded. "That stupid assault charge. Damn Manny couldn't keep his mouth shut."

"Jennifer, please," Stella said. "There's a woman out there who needs to know that the man who killed her daughter is going to get justice, and we might not be able to do that without you."

"I don't think I can help you," Jennifer said. "I want to, I do, but I really don't remember much."

"Anything could help," Stella encouraged.

"I was working this party down in the East Village," Jennifer said. "You know, one of those pseudo-grunge places that are really all moneyed up inside but the rich folks still want to look hardcore, so they keep it all old school on the outside? I don't know the exact address, I don't remember…I worked first shift, so I was leaving, probably around midnight, maybe one, I'm not sure, and this guy offers to buy me a drink at this bar down the street, says the party isn't really his scene either. I guess he musta slipped something in, because the next thing I remember is waking up in that apartment. My clothes were all torn up, and I could…I could feel what had happened, you know? But what was I supposed to do? Who's gonna believe an ex-felon from the Bronx?"

"I believe you," Stella said. "Do you remember anything about this man? Anything at all?"

"I think he was blond," Jennifer said. "His hair was pretty short, one of those military-type cuts. He said he was a doctor, but I don't know if that's true…you know how it is, guys are always doctors or movie stars or lawyers when they want something…"

"Do you think you'd be able to describe him to a sketch artist?" Stella asked.

"I don't think so," Jennifer admitted regretfully. "I just…it's all too fuzzy. I don't even know if I'm remembering it right. Maybe he wasn't even blond…maybe it was a light brown?"

"It's alright," Stella assured her, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her business card. "If you remember anything else, anything at all, please call me."

"I will," Jennifer nodded, turning to head back into the apartment.

"Oh, and Jennifer?" Stella said suddenly, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out another card.

"What's this?" Jennifer asked, glancing skeptically at the card in her hand.

"Someplace safe," Stella said. "If you ever want to talk, or just need to feel like you're not alone in this…they've got all sorts of programs, counselors, the whole nine yards."

"I don't have any money for that stuff," Jennifer said, shaking her head as she tried to hand back the card.

"And they won't ask for money," Stella said. "Just hold on to it, alright? Just in case?"

"Alright," Jennifer nodded, quickly ducking back into the apartment and shutting the door.

* * *

"Well, that was a bust," Flack complained as they climbed back into the SUV a few minutes later. "You were real good with her, though, Stel."

"She just needed to know someone believed her," Stella said.

"Funny, that's what Adam said," Flack said, frowning as he revved the engine.

"Adam's a smart guy," Stella said. "You don't give him enough credit sometimes, Don."

"Hey, I know the kid's smart," Flack insisted. "Not exactly street smart, or people smart, but I know the kid's smart."

"He's not exactly a kid, either, Flack," Stella pointed out.

"Why are you so hell-bent on defendin' the kid today?" Flack asked. "You got a thing with him?"

"A thing?" Stella asked skeptically, arching an eyebrow in his direction.

"Yeah, you know, a thing," Flack said.

"Donald Flack, for your sake, I'm going to pretend that you didn't _actually_ just ask me that question," Stella said, a strong warning tone in her voice.

"Hey, I'm just sayin', stranger things have happened," Flack shrugged.

"Do you really think this morning would have happened if I had a 'thing' – whatever the hell that even means – going on with someone else?" Stella asked.

"I guess not," Flack admitted. "See, there I go with the not-thinking thing again."

"We have got to get you some help for that," Stella said.

"No argument here," Flack said.

* * *

"Come on, let's get you someplace a little more comfortable, okay?" Adam asked cautiously, gently wrapping an arm around Samantha's waist and helping her up from her spot on the kitchen floor, where she'd silently waited during the time it had taken him to sprint down the stairs, out to the dumpster and back up to her apartment.

Nodding silently, Samantha let him guide her out of the kitchen and onto the sofa. Settling in next to him, she sighed heavily as she scooted closer to him, tucking her feet underneath her and leaning her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her and her hand resting on his chest.

"Hey Adam?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you call your sister every day?" Samantha asked.

"No," Adam shook his head. "Actually, we don't really talk all that much at all. Why?"

"In her message, she said she was worried you hadn't called," Samantha said. "It just sounded like she expected you to call her today."

"She did," Adam agreed. "I, uh, it's the one day of the year we always talk, no matter what. I usually call her first thing in the morning, but this morning I just…I guess I forgot."

"You had a busy morning," Samantha said. "That sounded like a big case you got called in for."

"I shouldn't have forgotten," Adam said. "Even with the case…I've never forgotten before. It's been twelve years; I've never forgotten, not once…"

"What exactly is today?" Samantha asked curiously.

Adam hesitated slightly, biting his lip as he seemed to ponder just what to tell her. Closing his eyes, he sighed and turned his head away from her to hide the tears that were forming in the corners of his eyes at the thought of what that day represented.

"It's…well, today is the twelfth anniversary of…" Adam paused, taking a deep breath to steady his composure. "It's the anniversary of my little sister's death."

"Oh, Adam," Samantha said softly, running her hand across his chest and up to his shoulder, looking up to meet his eyes.

"She was thirteen," Adam said sadly. "I wasn't there. I was supposed to be there, I was supposed to look out for her, to protect her, but I wasn't there."

"Tell me about her," Samantha encouraged.

"Her name was Charlotte," Adam said. "Charlotte Renee. She was five years younger than me…my only full sister."

"What do you mean?" Samantha asked.

"I have five other sisters," Adam said, laughing just a bit at the look of surprise on Samantha's face. "My parents, they got married right after I was born, but they were never really together, not really. Every couple of years, they'd get back together for a few months, but it never lasted long – she'd start drinking and doing drugs again, he'd get mad, fly off the handle about something stupid and she'd leave again. That left them plenty of time to have kids with other people – three of my sisters are my father's daughters with other women, two are my mother's with other men. And somewhere in all the chaos, Charlotte came along."

"Wow," Samantha marveled.

"Yeah," Adam nodded solemnly. "She was born nine weeks early, spent almost three months in the NICU before coming home. She had all sorts of problems – they're pretty sure my mother drank all through the pregnancy, maybe even did drugs too, they were never quite sure. But Charlotte, she was always so happy, so trusting and innocent and so resilient. They said she'd never walk, but she did…she wasn't supposed to talk or be able to go to school, but she did. She was never going to be independent, she was always going to need someone to take care of her, but it didn't matter…she was perfect."

"You must have really loved her," Samantha said, offering up a sad smile.

"I did," Adam nodded. "I had all these plans for us, for how I was going to get through school and then she'd come live with me, and we'd go somewhere far away from…from our father."

"Why?" Samantha asked. "I know you're not close to your dad, but…"

"He was a bit of bully," Adam admitted with a quick shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh," Samantha said, nodding in understanding.

"He never raised a hand to her, he knew better than that," Adam said. "But he didn't really care about her, not like she deserved. I thought all I had to do was get through school and we'd be okay."

"What happened, Adam?" Samantha asked gently.

"I finished high school a year early, figured I could get a head start on things," Adam said. "I got this scholarship at Arizona State – full tuition, room, board, the whole nine yards. And it wasn't that far, Tempe's maybe half an hour from where we lived, if that…I could still come home on the weekends, even every night if I need to. I thought it would be okay, I thought they'd be okay…I could have stayed at home, I should have stayed, but I just thought they'd be okay…and maybe I was being a little selfish, wanting the whole college experience. They were okay, for a while…maybe if I'd been home, I'd have seen it…"

"Seen what?" Samantha asked.

"That he was losing control," Adam said. "My father, he never handled Charlotte well…he resented her for not being 'normal'…he never saw her spirit, never saw her as a gift, just as a burden, and eventually, he just couldn't handle anything anymore. Today…it's her birthday, too…she wanted to see me, he said. She just kept asking and asking and driving him crazy, so he put her in the car and they were driving out to campus. I don't know what happened, he wasn't drunk…he just ran right off the road, right over the edge of an overpass."

"Oh God, Adam," Samantha sighed.

"The doctors said she died on impact," Adam said, taking another deep breath to hold back the tears. "He lived, though – he's in a wheelchair, which drives him nuts, but he lived. If I'd been there, if I hadn't been so eager to live on campus…"

"Adam, the accident wasn't your fault," Samantha assured him.

"Up here, I know that," Adam said, tapping a finger to his forehead, shaking his head as he brought his hand down to cover hers over the left side of his chest. "It's here that I have a problem knowing that."

"I know the feeling," Samantha nodded sadly.

"Anyway, that's why I call Stacey every year today," Adam said. "She's the only one of my sisters I really talk to much, and the only one I've even seen since…well, since Charlotte's funeral, I guess. I transferred to Columbia at the end of that semester and I haven't been back to Arizona since."

"Did you guys have a fight?" Samantha asked curiously. "Why don't you talk to them?"

"We were just never close," Adam shrugged. "None of us really grew up together, except Charlotte and I. Stacey lived with her mom, which is probably why she's the most normal of any of us – married, two little boys, white picket fence, all of that."

"How old is she?" Samantha asked.

"Twenty-seven," Adam said. "Two years younger than me."

"What about your other sisters?" Samantha asked. "What about them?"

"Well, my mom had two other daughters," Adam said. "Twins, actually. Ivy and Olivia are three years younger than me. They were raised by their father's parents; not a great situation, but it could have been a lot worse for them. Last I heard, Ivy was moving to Nashville to become a country singer and Olivia had just joined the Marines, but that was a few years back."

"The Marines?" Samantha asked skeptically.

"I'll show you a picture next time we're at my place," Adam said. "Livy's favorite pastime growing up was kicking all the little boys' asses at school."

"I think I'd like that sister," Samantha smirked.

"Yeah, something tells me you and Livy would get along pretty well," Adam agreed. "And then there's Trisha, who's eight years younger than me, and Lauren, who's nine years younger. They're my father's daughters, both with the same mother. They were raised by one of their aunts in Tucson, so I never saw them much. I haven't heard much of what's happened to them, to be honest. Stacey probably knows; keeping tabs on the family is sort of her hobby."

"You should call her," Samantha said. "She's probably still expecting that."

"Probably," Adam said, not moving except to slightly tighten his arms around Samantha, pulling her just a bit closer to his chest. "I'm kinda good right here, though."

Smiling, Samantha nodded as she buried her head in his chest and leaned against him.

"I'm sorry I freaked out on you," she whispered. "I didn't think I'd react like that."

"Hey, it's not your fault," Adam assured her. "And really, it's kind of cute that you get jealous…just don't let it push you out of control, okay?"

"I know," Samantha said. "Today…that was stupid, that bottle…stupid and emotional and…"

"And you didn't do it," Adam reminded her. "You didn't drink it."

"I almost did," Samantha said. "I think that's just as bad."

"Almost doesn't count," Adam said, kissing her forehead to reassure her. "Almost still means you didn't. You were strong enough to stop yourself."

"I guess," Samantha nodded. "I'm sorry I'm so screwed up, too."

"Did you not just hear my story?" Adam asked in amusement. "Five sisters I barely talk to, a sixth dead, a dead mother, a bitter, paralyzed father, major guilt issues…you're not the only screwed up one in this relationship, Sam."

"I guess not," Samantha agreed. "I love you, Adam."

"I love you too," Adam said, leaning his head back against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes to soak up another moment he never wanted to forget.


	18. Things Are Different

"Good morning," Samantha said with a smile early one morning a few weeks later, slipping into a seat across the table from Stella at a coffeehouse a few blocks from the precinct.

"Morning," Stella muttered, taking another large sip from her latte and rubbing her hand over her eyes. "You look happy."

"And you look exhausted," Samantha observed. "Have you slept at all in the last week?"

"Not really," Stella admitted.

"Got something you need to get off your chest?" Samantha asked. "I'm a great listener, remember? Or maybe this isn't a problem you want fixed…"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Stella asked in confusion.

"Nothing," Samantha said. "It's just…well, you've been spending an awful lot of time with the Kensingtons lately. I just thought that maybe a certain former flame was keeping you up at night? Figuratively, of course…or maybe literally?"

"Samantha Flack!" Stella exclaimed in surprise.

"What?" Samantha asked defensively. "It's a legitimate assumption given your history with him."

"I am not sleeping with Jimmy," Stella insisted. "I haven't even seen him yet, and I'm still not sure that I'm going to."

"Maybe a new boyfriend then?" Samantha asked suspiciously.

"No, no boyfriend," Stella sighed. "Just haven't been sleeping well, that's all."

"Anything I can help with?" Samantha asked in concern.

"No, it's just a case that's run cold," Stella said. "Rape and murder of a twenty-four year old woman. We've got a ton of evidence, but nothing to compare it to. If we could just catch a little break, get a little bit closer, we could nail a suspect, but right now, we don't have a leg to stand on. It's been four weeks – statistically, if we don't even have a suspect by now, chances are we never will."

"I'm sure you all did everything you could," Samantha said.

"It never feels like enough," Stella said. "This girl wasn't the first victim, just the first to die, and it kills me that there are other women out there living with what he did to them, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

"Well, if he's done it before, then won't he do it again?" Samantha asked.

"Not something I want to think about," Stella said with a quick shake of her head.

"Look, I'm a cop's daughter, a cop's sister, hell, I'm a cop's granddaughter," Samantha said. "So I've heard a lot, and one thing I've heard over and over again is that the bad guys are stupid, even the smart ones, if they do it more than once. The more they do it, the more likely they are to make a mistake. So it sucks that maybe someone else is going to get hurt, but if he does it again, maybe that'll be the time he'll screw up."

"I know," Stella nodded. "I'm just not a terribly patient person, especially when what I'm waiting for is such a horrible thing."

"Life sucks sometimes," Samantha agreed.

"Okay, moving to happier topics," Stella said with a forced smile. "You looked pretty happy when you walked in here this morning."

"Is that a problem?" Samantha asked.

"Of course not," Stella said. "But something's different today…you look like someone took a weight off your shoulders. You look satis…oh my God."

"What?" Samantha asked in confusion.

"You finally did it," Stella said.

"What are you talking about?" Samantha asked.

"You and Adam," Stella said with a grin. "You finally slept with him."

"Is it that obvious?" Samantha asked, blushing nervously.

"Only if you know what you're looking for," Stella assured her. "So, how was it?"

"I'm not giving you details," Samantha said indignantly.

"Trust me, I don't want the details," Stella said. "But I know how worried you were about it, so I just want to make sure that you're alright."

"I think I will be," Samantha said with a smile. "I wish I could say it was amazing and wonderful and everything everyone's always made it out to be, but I can't. I'm still…it's still hard for me, it's still not something I'm comfortable with, but he's okay with that, he doesn't expect it to be perfect…and I think we're getting there, I really do."

"I'm really happy for you, Sam," Stella said.

"Thanks," Samantha said. "So, now we just really need to find you a man, Stella."

"Oh, I've had more than my share, thank you very much," Stella said.

"Don't you dare say that you're done with men," Samantha interrupted. "I'm not saying you need one, but don't you dare say you don't want one, because that's crap. You're just scared to let one in."

"It's not as though good things happen when I do," Stella pointed out.

"How many times are we going to have this argument?" Samantha asked. "You've got to take a risk sometimes, Stella. Trust me, the reward is worth it."

* * *

"Okay, that was weird," Lindsay commented as she walked into the break room, casting a wary glance back at the lab before sitting down across the table from Danny.

"What was?" Danny asked, setting down his sandwich to look at his wife.

"Adam," Lindsay said. "I swear, he was whistling in the lab just now. Not just a quick bar or two, but a whole song."

"What was he whistling?" Danny asked.

"I'm not sure," Lindsay said. "But it was very peppy. And I'm not saying Adam isn't usually upbeat, but he's not usually peppy."

"Probably just had a good night with his girlfriend," Danny shrugged.

"His what?" Lindsay asked in surprise.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Danny asked. "Yeah, he's got himself a girlfriend."

"Who is she?" Lindsay asked. "Is it serious?"

"I don't know," Danny said. "I just overheard them on the phone one day. It's not like I've been getting regular updates."

"Updates on what?" Adam asked as he walked into the room.

"Adam, since when do you have a girlfriend?" Lindsay asked, jumping straight to the point.

"Wait, what?" Adam stammered. "Who told you about Samantha?"

"Samantha," Lindsay repeated. "So she does have a name. How long have you and Samantha been together, Adam?"

"Um, almost three months," Adam admitted. "We met at Christmas."

"Is it serious?" Lindsay asked.

"I, uh, yeah, I guess so," Adam said.

"Well, how serious is serious?" Lindsay pressed eagerly. "I mean, are we talking you really like her? Or are we talking love?"

"He did tell her he loves her," Danny pointed out.

"He did?" Lindsay asked. "Adam, do you think maybe she's the one?"

"I, um, well, I don't know," Adam said. "It's sort of, well it's all kind of new to me, but if she's not the one, then I don't think there is such a thing."

"That could very well be the most romantic thing I've ever heard," Lindsay said. "So, do you think you're going to marry her?"

"M…marry?" Adam stuttered. "I, uh, well, Lindsay it's only been three months…not even three, really…I don't, um…"

"Relax, Adam, she's not expecting an invitation anytime soon," Danny assured him. "Seriously, Montana, why would even ask that question?"

"Hey, it's not that crazy," Lindsay protested. "My parents only dated for six weeks before they got engaged and they've been happily married for almost forty years now."

"Well, Adam's no where near ready to get married, right buddy?" Danny said.

"Um, right," Adam said, a bit more half-heartedly than he had intended. "I, uh, I've got to get back to work now."

"You didn't have to interrogate the poor kid," Danny said, stifling a laugh as Adam practically bolted from the room.

"He's head over heels," Lindsay said. "I just wanted to know a little more, can you blame me? You can't tell me you aren't the least bit curious about this girl who's got Adam all aflutter, can you?"

"Did you for real just use 'aflutter' in a sentence?" Danny laughed.

"Do you have a problem with my vocabulary?" Lindsay asked with a smirk, resting her elbows on the table as she watched him. "Does it intimidate you that I know so many words?"

"No," Danny said. "I just can't believe you used _that_ word. I think people stopped using that one about fifty years ago, Montana."

* * *

"Anything to report?" Flack asked that evening, leaning against the doorframe in the entrance to Stella's office.

Glancing up from the paperwork she was filling out, Stella smiled slightly when she home but shook her head.

"I would have called you if I did," she said.

"Just figured I'd check," Flack shrugged.

"Uh huh," Stella muttered, clearly not completely buying his excuse. "Well, we just got the monthly national CODIS comparison back and we've still got nothing. At this point, I don't think we've got anything left that we can do, Don."

"So she just goes in as another cold case we couldn't solve?" Flack asked.

"Not couldn't," Stella corrected. "Just haven't. Someday, he'll screw up, and we'll have the evidence waiting to nail him for this."

"I hope so," Flack said. "So, you ready to get out of here? First beer's on me tonight if you're in?"

"I think I'll pass," Stella said. "I'm exhausted, Don. I think I'm headed home to crash tonight."

"Dinner then?" Flack asked, flashing a grin that he hoped would convince her. "C'mon, Stel, you've got to eat, and you can't tell me that you've got anything in that apartment of yours that's gonna rival a slice at Tony's."

"I guess I could eat," Stella agreed hesitantly.

"It's just a slice, I promise," Flack assured her, holding her coat as she slipped into it and turned to face him. "No ulterior motives, I swear."

"Oh, no, I didn't…" Stella began to protest.

"Yes, you did," Flack said knowingly. "Look, I know things have been awkward since…well, since that incident a few weeks ago, and that's probably my fault. But I don't want to lose you as a friend, so you've got to stop thinking there's a hidden meaning to every comment, okay?"

"Okay," Stella nodded with an embarrassed smile.

"Shall we then?" Flack said, holding open the door.

* * *

"I still can't believe you don't like meatball pizza," Flack said, shoving the last bit of crust into his mouth and leaning back into his chair. "It ain't right, Stella, it just ain't right."

"I like pizza and I like meatballs," Stella said. "I just don't see the point of smashing up perfectly good meatballs and putting them on a pizza. They aren't even balls anymore, so it isn't really a meatball pizza."

"Watch what you say, Bonasera," Flack warned mockingly. "You can't be a New Yorker and not like a good meatball pizza."

"Are you questioning my New Yorker credibility?" Stella asked. "Because you may be from Queens, but this Manhattan girl could still kick your ass any day of the week, don't doubt that for a second."

"Oh, I don't," Flack assured her.

"Good," Stella said, folding up her napkin and placing it next to her plate.

"You ready?" Flack asked.

"Yeah," Stella said. "I'm really glad I came tonight, but I wasn't kidding about being exhausted, either."

"C'mon," Flack said, holding his hand out to her. "I'll drive you home."

"You don't have to do that," Stella said. "I can walk, it's not that far."

"Yeah, but you're exhausted, remember?" Flack teased. "Chivalry ain't completely dead, ya know."

"Oh, I know," Stella said, smiling slightly as she slipped her hand into his and followed him out of the restaurant.

"I was…" Flack began, pausing as Stella's cell phone began to ring.

"Sorry," she said with an apologetic smile, pulling her phone from her pocket and flipping it open. "Bonasera."

Flack watched in concern as Stella's smile faded into a frown, worry and fear clouding her features as she listened to whatever the person on the other end was saying.

"Alright, calm down Eddie," she said. "I'm on my way, just…she'll be okay, Eddie, she will be."

"Everything alright?" Flack asked as Stella slipped the phone back into her pocket.

"No," Stella shook her head. "No, my friend – Lana – she's been in a car crash. I…I have to go to the hospital…"

"C'mon, I'll drive," Flack said, grabbing his keys from his pocket and slipping an arm around Stella's waist, guiding her down the block to where his SUV was parked. "She'll be alright, Stel."

"You don't know that," Stella said, shaking her head. "You didn't hear Eddie's voice, Don."

"You said he didn't say much," Flack said.

"He didn't have to," Stella said. "He sounded scared, and Eddie doesn't get scared, not like that."

"Everyone gets scared, Stel," Flack pointed out.

"The last time Eddie sounded that scared was when he called to tell Jimmy and I that their father had had a heart attack," Stella said. "By the time Jimmy and I got back to the city, Richard was dead. Eddie doesn't do scared, Don, but he was scared today."


	19. For You

**A/N:** Another apology for the delay in posting! For those who don't read 'Everything Changes' and didn't see my explanation on that update, I will just say that I can't even begin to explain how crazy things have been for the last few months in "real" life. I've barely had a moment to sit at home, let alone write - some good craziness, some not so good. Anyway, I do apologize for not updating sooner, and hope that this chapter is worth the wait!

* * *

Stella tapped her foot impatiently as the floors ticked by in the elevator, drumming her fingers against her arm and staring at the doors as though trying to somehow will them into opening faster. She was grateful to be alone, not worrying about bothering someone else or having to make unwelcome small talk. Despite his protests, Stella had managed to convince Flack to drop her off at the entrance to the hospital and not accompany her up to Lana's room.

When they finally did, she practically tore out of the elevator, not bothering to slow down even when she nearly collided with several waiting nurses on her way down the hall. Rounding the corner toward the room she'd been pointed toward at the front desk, she barely even glanced up – a mistake that found her running straight into a very familiar male chest.

"Hey, watch it, you'll…"

The angry tone faded away, along with whatever reprimand he had on the tip of his tongue, when he finally looked down and saw the woman standing in front of him.

"Hi," he whispered softly, almost nervously, tentatively taking a step toward her.

"Jimmy," Stella whispered back in surprise. She should have expected it, she should have been prepared for it – of course Jimmy would rush to his sister's side, of course he would be there. Somehow, though, that fact seemed to have slipped her mind in her rush to get there herself.

"Eddie said he called you," James said, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pocket for lack of anything else to do with them. "He said you've been around again the last few months."

"I ran into your mother and she invited me to dinner," Stella said. "I couldn't say no, I'm sorry. I know we agreed I'd stay away, that I wouldn't…"

"Stella, that was years ago," Jimmy interrupted gently. "I'd like to think we've moved past that time, maybe even gotten to a point where we could have a conversation without screaming?"

"I think we can do that," Stella agreed with a smile.

"Good," James nodded. "Because I know my family, and now that they've got you back, I don't think you're going to get rid of them that easily. I still can't believe they backed off the first time, especially Lana."

"She didn't," Stella admitted. "She called me every night for six months straight, left long messages – she even showed up at my apartment a few times. Eventually, she just gave up."

"I should have known she'd have at least tried," James said. "I'm surprised you sent her away, though. You were pretty pissed when I asked you to stay away from my family."

"I know," Stella agreed. "I guess maybe on some level, even if I didn't like it, I could see your reasons. You were just trying to protect them."

"I probably should have let them make their own decision on the matter," James said.

"You did what you thought was best," Stella assured him. "I can't fault you for trying to protect them from me, especially when they didn't have all the facts."

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with the woman who threw a ten thousand dollar crystal vase at my head the last time I saw her?"

Stella quickly glanced down at her feet to hide an embarrassed smile.

"I guess I changed," she shrugged. "Believe it or not, people can do that."

"So you're…"

"Sober?" Stella filled in knowingly. "Yes, I am – have been for quite a while now. I'm even a sponsor."

"I'm happy for you, Stella," James said sincerely. "You know I never wanted us to end, right? I just…"

"You don't have to explain yourself," Stella interrupted. "Like I said, I may not have liked it, but I always understood why you did what you did. I don't have any hard feelings about the way things ended, Jimmy."

"Hey! Uncle James, Grandmother wants to know if you're coming or not? The doctor's here!"

James turned at the sound of the teenage voice, nodding in the direction of his niece at the end of the hallway.

"Tell her I'll be right there, Marissa," James said quickly, turning back to Stella as the young girl hurried back into the private waiting room.

"You'd better get back," Stella said. "I don't want to intrude, I'll just…"

Stella's voice trailed off as James pulled her into a tight embrace, her head coming to rest on his shoulder almost instinctively, as though they'd done this a thousand times – which she supposed they had, even if it felt like a whole lifetime ago.

"Please stay," James whispered as he held her close. "Don't leave because of me. You belong here just as much as any one of us. Mother wants you here, Eddie wants you here, Lana would want you here…and…well, _I_ want you here, too."

* * *

"Hey!" Adam exclaimed in surprise, ducking just in time to avoid being struck by the pen Samantha had hurled through the air just before he had stepped into his living room. "What'd that poor pen ever do you to you?"

"I hate this," Samantha seethed, slamming shut the book in her lap and looking over at him. "What the hell do I need to know any of this for?"

"Well, what are you studying?" Adam asked, confused by the sudden appearance of stacks of books on his coffee table.

"Everything," Samantha said, tossing the book back onto the pile in frustration. "Science. Math. Social Studies. All of it…and guess what? I suck at it, Adam."

Adam was quiet as he picked up a book from the top of the pile and took a seat next to Samantha, smiling when he read the title.

"_Keys to GED Success_," he read aloud. "Sam, you didn't tell me you were going to get your GED."

"Yeah, well, it was a stupid idea," Samantha said, grabbing the book out of his hands and tossing it back into the pile. "I'm not going to do it."

"Why not?" Adam asked.

"Because I don't want to," Samantha said defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Sam, you've got over two hundred dollars worth of prep books here, and they're not library books," Adam pointed out. "I don't think you would have spent that kind of money if you weren't serious about this."

"It would make you feel better, wouldn't it?" Samantha asked. "If you didn't have to tell your friends that your girlfriend was a high school dropout, it would be better, right? You'd be less embarrassed of me?"

"What?" Adam asked in shock.

"Don't think I haven't noticed that I haven't met your friends," Samantha said. "It's because you're embarrassed of me, isn't it?"

"Of course not," Adam insisted. "Look, Sam, before I met you, I went to work and I came home. I'd go to the grocery store, maybe down to the pizza place on the corner sometimes, but mostly it was apartment, work, apartment, over and over again. The truth is, I don't have that many friends outside of work."

"And I haven't met your work friends because you're afraid they'll recognize and my brother will find out," Samantha said knowingly.

"Well, I do think this relationship has a better chance if I'm actually alive," Adam said, smiling when Samantha laughed.

"I suppose I can see that," she agreed.

"Seriously, though, Sam, is that what this is about? You're taking this test because of me?" Adam asked.

"Maybe a little bit," Samantha admitted.

"Sam, I'm not saying you shouldn't get your GED, because if that's what you want to do, I support you one hundred percent. And yeah, I think maybe it would help you feel better about yourself," Adam said. "But do it for you. Don't think you need to take it for me, because you don't. I love you whether you have a diploma or not, and no piece of paper is ever going to change the way I feel about you."

"Really?" Samantha asked skeptically.

"Yes," Adam insisted. "In fact…"

"What?" Samantha asked anxiously as Adam hesitated for a moment.

"Okay, well, uh, a coworker got me thinking about this, and I was going to wait, you know, at least a few more weeks," Adam said nervously. "But I think now's a good time, because I, uh, I really want you to know that this, well, the way I feel about you, it's got nothing to do with any diploma or test…"

"Adam, are you okay?" Samantha asked in confusion. "Your hands are shaking, sweetie."

"Just give me a minute, I, uh, I had this whole speech, and it was, um, really, really good, but I didn't write it down, which was stupid of me, but I didn't, and now that I'm actually doing this, I, uh, of course I can't remember a word of it," Adam said, pausing after blurting out his explanation nearly in one breath.

"Whatever it is, you know you can say anything to me, right?" Samantha said, still not quite comprehending what exactly Adam was trying to do.

"Right, uh, so I guess I'm just winging this," Adam said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box, slipping off the couch and dropping to one knee at the same moment that Samantha's hands flew to her mouth as it dawned on her what he was about to do.

"Oh my God," she whispered through her fingers, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I know it's fast," Adam said quickly. "I know it's only been a few months, and you can say no if you want, it's okay. I, uh, please don't feel like you have to say yes, because if you don't, it won't change anything. It's just, I've never felt like this, Sam, not about anyone, and I think I knew it from that first time I saw you in Stella's apartment. I think I've always known it was you for me, Sam."

"Oh my God," Samantha whispered again, tears welling up in her eyes.

"So I know it seems fast, because, uh, it is fast," Adam continued. "It's just, and I said this a lot better in my speech, I know I did…but it doesn't feel like just a few months, Sam. It feels like I've known you my whole life, if that makes any sense at all – the only difference is now you're here with me instead of just in my dreams. I don't want to pressure you, because even if you say yes, this doesn't have to be right away, nothing has to happen fast if you don't want it to, but I love you, and whether you're ready to say yes or not, I just want to let you know that the offer is there, any time, and I…"

"Adam," Samantha interrupted, the tears now streaming down her cheeks. "Not that it's not a great speech, but would you please ask the question before I start crying so much I can't speak?"

"Right, sorry," Adam nodded apologetically, opening the box to reveal a small princess cut diamond. "Samantha Flack, will you marry me?"


	20. The Truth

**A/N:** Merry Christmas, everyone!! I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to respond to all of your reviews personally yet (I will tonight!), but I've been spending my free time working on my Christmas present to you all...which is, of course, a brand new chapter :-) Enjoy!

* * *

Adam's hands shook as he watched Samantha's face carefully, trying desperately to read something – anything – in her expression, biting his lip as he waited for her to break the silence. Finally, after what seemed like hours to him, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and slipped down so that she was kneeling in front of him, her face level with his.

"You really want to marry me?" Samantha asked, her voice hesitant but hopeful at the same time.

"More than I've ever wanted anything," Adam assured her, still unsure what answer he was about to get and wondering if maybe he'd just screwed up the best relationship he'd ever had.

"Okay," Samantha nodded, tears once again streaming down her face.

"Is that yes?" Adam asked hopefully.

"Yes," Samantha whispered, leaning forward to kiss him gently. "Yes, I'll marry you. Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"I don't know, I guess maybe…I didn't exactly have the speech I'd planned," Adam said. "I mean, I was stumbling and…"

"And it was perfect," Samantha said with grin. "I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"Really?" Adam asked skeptically.

"That line about me being here instead of just in your dreams? I think when you said that, my heart melted a little bit," Samantha said. "So, um, are you going to put that ring on my finger now?"

"Oh, right, yes," Adam said, carefully removing the ring from the box and slipping it onto Samantha's finger with his still-shaking hands. "And look, I know it's a little bit small, and I know it's not much, but it's a start for us, and I'll…"

"It's perfect," Samantha interrupted reassuringly. "I love it just the way it is. Everything about this is perfect, Adam, just perfect."

* * *

"James, where on earth did you disappear to?" Nancy Kensington asked anxiously as her son walked back into the waiting room.

"Sorry, Mother, I got a little sidetracked on the way to the coffee cart," James shrugged, pointing behind him to Stella. "I ran into Stella in the hallway."

"Oh good, you're here too, sweetheart," Nancy said, nodding as Stella stepped into the room. "Well, the whole family's here now, so you'd better begin, Dr. Johnson."

"Yes, ma'am," Dr. Johnson said, clearly a bit intimidated by the family in front of him, waiting eagerly for him to begin. "Well, all in all, your daughter is an extremely lucky woman. Her injuries are serious, but could have easily been much, much worse, especially considering the speed at which the impact occurred."

"So my mom's going to be okay?" Marissa asked anxiously, stepping up beside Stella and wrapping her arms around her waist as she slipped an arm around her shoulder.

"She has a long road ahead of her," Dr. Johnson said. "At this point, I'd say there's certainly room for cautious optimism, but please don't expect that she'll just walk out of here tomorrow. She sustained multiple fractures, a ruptured spleen, some internal bleeding and what will probably turn out to be, if you'll pardon the expression, one hell of a concussion."

"How is any of that fortunate?" Nancy asked, squeezing Eddie's hand as he sat by her side for support.

"I know, it doesn't sound that way, but that's because you're hearing what did happen," Dr. Johnson said.

"What else would we hear?" Eddie asked testily.

"What's missing," Stella said hesitantly.

"What are you talking about, Stella?" James asked in confusion.

"It's just something we overlook in investigations sometimes," Stella said. "You have to remind yourself that sometimes, what isn't there is even more important than what is – or in this case, what didn't happen."

"Exactly," Dr. Johnson said. "In Lana's case, what didn't happen could have been devastating. Yes, she sustained multiple fractures, but although she took a sharp and direct impact, there were no fractures in the vertebrae. Yes, there was internal bleeding, but nothing that we weren't able to quickly locate the source of and then treat. And the concussion is bad, yes, but with the force of impact, Lana could just as easily have suffered an inter-cranial hemorrhage, which would likely have required us to perform brain surgery, which can in and of itself cause more problems than many injuries."

"Good heavens," Nancy sighed.

"So, on the whole, Lana is fortunate," Dr. Johnson said. "She's got a long recovery ahead of her and the full extent of her injuries will reveal itself over time, but I see no reason not to be cautiously optimistic about her chances for a full recovery."

"Can we see her?" Eddie asked.

"I'm afraid not," Dr. Johnson said. "At the moment, she's still in the recovery ward. In a few hours, assuming no changes in her conditions arise, we'll move her down to the ICU. At that point, it's immediate family members only, and only one at a time, for ten minutes once an hour. Is everyone here an immediate family member?"

Eddie and James exchanged a questioning glance, not quite sure how they should answer the doctor's question, relieved when Nancy answered for them.

"Of course they are," Nancy said, smiling knowingly in Stella's direction. "Lana's husband was in Prague with their son – flights are just a mess getting out of there, but they should be back by the end of the day tomorrow. In the meantime, these are her brothers, her daughter and her sister."

Dr. Johnson raised a skeptical eyebrow, carefully scanning the blonde, blue-eyed Kensington family before turning to the decidedly un-blonde Stella.

"Is there a problem, Doctor?" Nancy asked pointedly, her tone clearly dictating that, in a hospital with an entire wing named for her late husband, there had certainly better not be a problem with something she declared to be the truth.

"No, of course not," Dr. Johnson muttered apologetically. "I'll be sure to let you know when we're ready to move Lana to ICU."

* * *

"Adam?" Samantha whispered later that night, lying in bed next to Adam, her head resting on her chest and his arm wrapped loosely around her waist, the darkness of his bedroom preventing her from seeing his face. "Are you awake?"

"Mmm?" Adam mumbled groggily. "Yeah, sort of. What's up?"

"I need to tell you something," Samantha said.

"Can it wait for morning?" Adam asked.

"No," Samantha said urgently.

"What's wrong?" Adam asked, suddenly concerned that maybe she was having second thoughts about the rapid progression of their relationship.

"You know that GED thing?" Samantha asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Adam said warily. "Hey, I thought we talked about that. You don't have to do it if you don't want to. You and I both know how smart you are, it doesn't matter whether or not you have a piece of paper to prove it."

"Yeah, well, that's the thing," Samantha said nervously. "You weren't really the real reason I wanted to do it."

"Oh? What was?" Adam asked curiously.

"It's stupid, I don't know what I was thinking," Samantha said. "It's not happening, anyway, so there's no…"

"Sam, you can tell me," Adam insisted gently. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it isn't stupid."

"Well, I kind of thought that maybe I, well, _Imightgotocollege_," Samantha blurted out, her words coming so quickly and so softly that Adam wasn't even sure he'd heard her correctly.

"Woah," Adam muttered. "Where'd this come from?"

"See, I told you it was stupid," Samantha said. "I mean, what the hell was I thinking? College? No one in my family has ever done that, and if anyone was going to, it sure as hell wouldn't be me."

"Why not?" Adam asked. "I mean, if you want to go to college, you should."

"It was just a thought," Samantha said dismissively. "I just got carried away, that's all. It would never work, I couldn't do that."

"Why not?" Adam asked. "Sam, I know you don't believe it, but you're smart, I've seen it. You're good with numbers and words and you're amazing at anything you do…why should this be any different?"

"I don't even know why I'd go," Samantha said. "It's not like I've got some big career plan or something – I wait tables and live on tips, Adam. I don't have dreams to make come true."

"Sometimes that's not the way it works," Adam said. "You've got to start moving forward and then the dreams follow."

"Did you get that off a fortune cookie?" Samantha asked skeptically.

"Okay, so it's a little corny," Adam admitted. "I'm just saying, if you want to wait tables for the rest of your life, that's fine. If that's what makes you happy, don't let anyone tell you that you need to do something else. But if you think that maybe you want a little bit more for your life – even if you don't know what exactly that is yet – why not set yourself up for that while you can?"

"You're really smart, you know that?" Samantha asked. "God, I hope our kids get your brains and not mine."

"Our…our what?" Adam gulped, taken aback by Samantha's slip of the tongue.

"Shit," Samantha muttered. "I mean, if you have…we don't have to…we just got engaged, it's too soon to talk about…"

"I…I didn't mean I don't…I just never…" Adam stumbled through his explanation. "It's not something I really thought much about."

"And it's too soon to do that," Samantha said quickly. "I didn't mean…maybe we should just table that discussion for now?"

"Maybe that's a good idea," Adam agreed with a hint of relief in his voice.

"Okay," Samantha said, the hint of disappointment in her tone small enough that Adam, usually so in tune to her every mood, managed to miss it.

"So, about that GED…" Adam said.

"I can't go to college without that stupid test, but I can't pass it," Samantha said. "I tried looking at all that stuff, Adam, but I don't get it. It's been ten years since I studied all that crap, and I wasn't even any good at then, let alone now."

"So you'll study," Adam said. "It's just like any other test, you know."

"It's eight hours long," Samantha pointed out. "It's not just another test."

"Yeah, it's long, but it's doable," Adam assured her. "We'll just have to work on it, that's all. You could get someone to help you, you know."

"What, like hire a tutor?" Samantha asked.

"Sure, why not?" Adam asked.

"I don't exactly have the money for that," Samantha pointed out."

"I guess you're lucky that your fiancé doesn't charge all that much, then," Adam said with a small grin. "I mean, I'm not great at that writing stuff, but I'm pretty decent at the science and math parts."

"You'd help me study?" Samantha asked.

"Of course I would," Adam said.

"Okay," Samantha nodded solemnly. "But if you get annoying, I'm not above firing you."

"Firing me?" Adam laughed. "Does that mean you'll be paying me?"

"Well," Samantha said slowly, a mischievous grin on her face as she pressed herself up onto her elbows and hovered just over Adam, leaning down to kiss him softly. "Not in anything you could take to the bank, anyway."


	21. Unexpected

**A/N:** Not a ton of reviews on the last chapter, but I'm choosing to blame the holidays for that, and not assume a lack of interest on your part! I hope everyone had a happy and safe New Year - 2010 is going to be a great year!

A quick reminder before this chapter...this story started way back in the middle of season 5, so Angell never got killed. I'm not a huge fan of her (mostly because as you all probably know by now, I'm a Fiesta shipper all the way!), but I do like some of her interactions, and when I was writing this chapter, it just seemed natural to have her be the one in there.

* * *

Stella let out a tiny sigh of relief as she collapsed onto her bed, not even bothering to kick off her shoes before grabbing the blanket from the end of the bed and haphazardly tossing it over her body and closing her eyes, eager for even a brief respite from the chaos her day had been.

She'd stayed with the Kensingtons throughout the night, waiting not-so-patiently for further updates on Lana's condition. She'd made coffee runs for Eddie, prayed with Nancy, held Marissa when she'd cried – whatever they had needed, Stella had tried to do. When they'd finally been allowed into the ICU to see her, James had held Stella's hand so tightly she'd almost been afraid her fingers wouldn't be fully functional when he finally let go.

Although Lana still hadn't woken up by the time Stella left late in the afternoon, the doctors had all assured them that it was completely normal and they had no reason to be concerned. Stella knew they were right, she knew Lana's body needed time to recover and rest, but that didn't stop the worry that ate at her – a feeling she knew from experience wouldn't disappear until she heard the words 'I'm fine' straight from her friend's lips.

The lack of sleep, the gnawing worry – not to mention the lingering feelings she'd felt coming back to the surface the moment she'd laid eyes on James the night before – all of it added up to an extremely exhausted woman. For once in her life, Stella was certain she wasn't going to have any problem falling – or staying, for that matter – asleep that night…or she was, until her phone started to ring.

Fumbling around on the floor, her eyes only half-opened and her brain already half-asleep, Stella finally found her phone in the bottom of her purse and flipped it open without even glancing at the screen.

"What?"

"Gee, you sound pleasant," Samantha's voice came from the other end of the line. "What, did I wake you up? It's only five o'clock, you know."

"I was up all night, Sam, it might as well be two in the morning," Stella explained wearily. "I only got in a few minutes ago, and yes, I was already half-asleep."

"Well, where the hell have you been?" Samantha asked. "And why weren't you answering your phone? I must have called you at least a dozen times today, Stella."

"I just saw the missed calls," Stella said. "I'm sorry, Sam, I guess I forgot to check it today, that's all. Are you alright? Did something happen?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Samantha assured her. "I did want to talk to you, but don't freak out, I'm fine."

"Good," Stella said. "Can it wait a few hours? I really am exhausted, Sam."

"Alright," Samantha agreed reluctantly. "But please call me as soon as you wake up, Stel, because I think I'm just going to explode from happiness if I don't get to tell someone about this soon."

"That good, huh?" Stella asked with a slight laugh.

"Yes, but you need to be fully alert when I tell you, so hurry up and sleep, would ya?"

* * *

"Hey Flack, you gonna answer that damn phone?" Angell snapped, putting down her pen and glaring across her desk at her partner.

"Nope," Flack shook his head, not bothering to look up from the report he was filing out, his cell phone flashing and ringing on the edge of his desk, precariously close to falling off the edge.

"Why the hell not?" Angell asked. "I think I speak for the whole bullpen when I say it's annoying as all get out to have that damn thing goin' off every twenty minutes and you actin' like it ain't even there."

"I don't want to answer, I don't have to," Flack shrugged.

"What if it's for a case?" Angell pressed.

"It's not."

"And how the hell do you know that if you don't even look at the damn thing?" Angell asked. "Or did I just miss psychic day at the Academy?"

"Ring tones, genius," Flack muttered with a quick shake of his head. "You can set 'em for different people."

"Uh huh," Angell nodded. "So who are you avoiding? And so help me God, Flack, if it's an ex-girlfriend, I will answer that damn phone myself and tell her _exactly_ where to find you."

"Hey Angell, got a present for you," Danny called out, walked up behind her and handing her a file folder.

"You expect me to understand this mumbo-jumbo?" Angell asked in disbelief, glancing up at Danny. "Translate, now."

"Bossy, bossy…if I weren't a married man, I think I might kinda like it," Danny teased. "DNA on the Carpenter kid is a match to the crime scene. And it's not in that 'mumbo-jumbo', as you put it, but Flack's avoiding his sister."

"You couldn't have started with that? You really thought I'd know what this meant?" Angell asked skeptically, holding up the folder and handing it to Danny before turning back to Flack. "And you…Messer and I gotta go pick up this dumb kid, but don't think I'm walkin' outta here until you tell me what's going on with your sister. I thought you two weren't even talking?"

"We're not," Flack said.

"Hence the whole ignoring her calls thing," Danny pointed out.

"No, I mean she wasn't speaking to him," Angell clarified. "When did she start calling, Don? And why the hell aren't you picking up?"

"Not that it's any of your damn business, either of you, but it's not even Samantha calling me," Flack said. "So buzz off and go arrest that kid."

"He's not going anywhere," Angell insisted.

"It has to be Sam," Danny said. "She's the only person I know who inspires that level of active indifference in you, Flack."

"So who is it, then?" Angell asked.

"You two ain't going away, are you?" Flack asked in frustration. "Fine, if you must know, it's my old man."

"What?" Danny asked in surprise. "You and your old man have a great relationship, Flack. Seriously, the only thing I've ever heard you two fight over was…"

"Samantha," Flack filled in.

"Well yeah," Danny said.

"Wait, if you're not speaking to your sister, and your father wrote her off years ago, what's left to argue over?" Angell asked in confusion.

"He wants to know about her," Flack said. "Where she lives, what she does, if she's still sober, that sort of thing."

"Why?" Danny asked.

"Beats me," Flack shrugged. "Whatever he's getting at, though, I don't want any part of it, I know that much. I gave him her address and her number, that's as much as he's getting out of me."

* * *

Stella groaned as she slowly opened her eyes and rolled over in bed, unable to stay asleep any longer, despite the fact that she was still utterly exhausted. Glancing at the clock, she instantly knew why – it was barely eight o'clock. After all that happened in the past twenty-four hours, she'd managed only about three hours of sleep.

Grabbing her phone from her bedside table, she flipped it open and dialed Samantha's number, figuring that if she was awake, she might as well find out exactly what this amazing news she had was.

"It's about time," Samantha said when she picked up the phone.

"Does no one believe in a simple 'hello' anymore?" Stella asked in amusement.

"It saves time," Samantha said. "You sure didn't sleep long for someone who claimed to be exhausted."

"I think I've reached that point where I'm so exhausted that even sleep isn't going to help," Stella said.

"Where exactly where you all day?" Samantha asked.

"At the hospital."

"Oh God, the hospital? Are you alright?" Samantha asked anxiously. "Crap, here I am getting ticked off because you didn't call, and…seriously, Stella, are you okay? What happened?"

"Relax, Sam, I'm fine," Stella assured her. "My friend Lana was in a car accident yesterday evening. I spent all night and most of today sitting around the waiting room with her family."

"Her whole family?" Samantha asked curiously, knowing exactly what that could mean.

"If you're asking if he was there, yes, he was," Stella said.

"And…?"

"And nothing," Stella insisted. "His sister was fighting for her life, his focus wasn't exactly on me, and mine wasn't on him."

"Uh huh," Samantha muttered skeptically.

"I'm serious, Sam, nothing happened," Stella said.

"You just spent all day with a man you're been pining over for thirteen years and…"

"I have _not_ been pining over him," Stella interrupted.

"You so have, whether you know it or not," Samantha said. "You told me yourself that he was the only man you've ever truly loved – the love of your life, I think you said. Don't tell me nothing happened."

"Samantha, his sister is in the ICU, badly injured and facing a long and difficult recovery," Stella said. "We spent our time worrying about her, not making out in the elevator."

"Making out in an elevator?" Samantha laughed. "That's a very specific defense, Stel…I never said anything about making out, or about elevators. But I guess I know where your mind was…"

"It was not!" Stella protested.

"Stel, I simply wanted to know if any old feelings had been stirred up," Samantha said. "And judging by that reaction, I'd say they definitely were. So, did you actually jump him in the elevator or did you just think about it?"

"Nobody _jumped_ anyone, Sam," Stella insisted. "And no, I didn't kiss him, though if you must know, I won't deny that the thought crossed my mind a few times when he brought me home tonight."

"He took you home?" Samantha asked. "Did you invite him up?"

"No, I didn't," Stella said. "Look, nothing happened, Sam. He was a perfect gentleman."

"God, he sounds dull as a doorknob," Samantha groaned.

"Sam, his sister almost died yesterday," Stella pointed out. "Our minds were a little bit preoccupied by that."

"Still, you just spent the entire day with a man you once told me was the love of your life," Samantha said. "A man you've spent more than a decade missing. You spent the whole day with him, and you're telling me he didn't even try a thing? You didn't even try to kiss him? Not even on the cheek?"

"Not even on the cheek," Stella said. "Sam, really, it would have been inappropriate."

"But it would probably have relieved some stress," Samantha said. "Not to mention it might have been fun. God forbid you let yourself have a little fun, though. Do you even remember what that's like?"

"Now that's not fair," Stella complained. "Didn't you have something to tell me? Something that you were going to burst if you didn't get it off your chest?"

"Oh, yeah, I did, didn't I?" Samantha laughed. "Guess I got so caught up in trying to get you a love life I almost forgot about mine."

"What's going on, Sam?" Stella asked curiously.

"Okay, promise me you won't freak out?" Samantha asked. "You won't give me a lecture on timing or rushing into things or nothing like that?"

"I promise," Stella said hesitantly. "What's up?"

"I'm getting married," Samantha said, her grin almost audible in her voice. "Adam and I, we're getting married. We're engaged."

"That's…wow," Stella muttered in shock. "I don't know what to say. You're right, it is fast - unexpected, too, but mostly fast."

"But I know it's right, Stella," Samantha said. "It's fast, but for the first time in a long time, I'm really sure about where my life is going."

"Then I'm happy for you," Stella said. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"What?!" Samantha exclaimed. "God, no, Stella, I'm not."

"Just checking," Stella said. "I really am happy for you, Sam."

"Thanks, Stel," Samantha said. "And it sounds totally girly and unlike me, but if I have a 'real' wedding, you gotta be my bridesmaid, okay?"

"Of course," Stella said. "But what do you mean, _if_?"

"I dunno, we might just elope or go down to city hall or something," Samantha said. "I don't…"

Samantha paused as the sound of her doorbell echoed through the apartment.

"Hey Stella, someone's at the door, I gotta go," Samantha said. "It's probably Adam, he's always losing his key and having the neighbors let him up. They know him by now."

"Alright, well, congratulations, Sam," Stella said. "Have a good night."

"Oh, I will," Samantha said. "Get some rest, alright? You really do sound like hell."

"Comforting," Stella said with a small laugh. "Talk to you later."

"Okay, bye," Samantha said, closing the phone and setting on the kitchen table before standing up and making her way to the door. Pulling it open just a crack to see who was there, she let out a gasp at the man standing before her.

"Hi, Sammy," he said nervously.

"Daddy?"


	22. You Were There

Samantha wasn't quite sure how to react to the man standing in front of her. Yell? Cry? Slam the door in his face? A thousand options swirled through her head as stared at him in stunned silence.

"You look good, Sammy," Captain Flack said, his voice a bit quieter than she remembered, his eyes cast away from hers in a way that told her he was actually nervous about standing in her doorway.

Samantha shook her head and sighed at his comment. Part of her wanted to yell at him, demand to know what right he thought he had to show up like this without warning or invitation – and then slam the door in his face when his answer fell short of whatever it was she sought. That same part of her had spent the last ten years trying to hate him, punishing him for sins both real and imagined – for not taking the time to be there for his children, for not being the confidante she'd so desperately needed, for cutting her off, for walking away when she'd needed help.

Still, despite her best efforts, a bigger part of her would never let her truly hate him. That part of her recognized that he'd been paralyzed by grief, that it wasn't entirely his fault that she'd _chosen_ not to confide in him, that what she'd interpreted as abandonment had actually been a desperate, last-ditch attempt to force her to grow up and turn her life around. On some level, regardless of what had happened between them, she knew that she had never really grown out of being her daddy's baby girl, his beloved little Sammy.

"What are you doing here, Dad?" Samantha finally asked, her voice more weary than anything.

"I don't suppose you'd believe I was just in the neighborhood," Captain Flack said.

"Not a chance," Samantha shook her head. "Seriously, why are you here? What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you," Captain Flack said. "I miss you, Sammy."

"You've had years to miss me," Samantha countered. "Why now? What's going on?"

"Nothing's goin' on," Captain Flack insisted. "I just…look, I've just been doin' some thinking, that's all. I don't want any more regrets in my life, and the biggest one I got right now is that I didn't try to fix what went wrong between you and me."

"Why now?" Samantha repeated. "You're just all of a sudden regretting that? You just suddenly missed me for the first time in the, what? Four years since you washed your hands of me?"

"I've always missed you," Captain Flack said. "Like I said, I was just thinking lately and…"

"Oh my God," Samantha gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "You're sick, aren't you? That's what this is, I should have known it. What is it, cancer? Heart disease? That's what all this regrets crap is, right? You're dying, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not dying," Captain Flack assured her.

"Are you sure?" Samantha asked skeptically. "I mean, you look thinner than last time I saw you…and you look tired, Dad, real tired…"

"Gee, you sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself," Captain Flack said with a teasing smile. "Sammy, I swear to you, I'm not dying. Just saw my doc last month for a physical, you can call him for confirmation yourself if you want. Trust me, I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon."

"Then what's with the sentimental stuff?" Samantha asked. "You don't do sentimental, Dad, and you don't do regrets."

"I don't know," Captain Flack admitted. "Look, I'm not getting any younger, Sammy. I'm getting to that point where I read the obits every day just to see if I can make weekend plans or not. A lot of my old buddies, they're goin' fast, and it's enough to make a guy look at his own mortality. When Mitch O'Connell had his heart attack last week…"

"Uncle Mitch?" Samantha interrupted in concern at the mention of her father's first partner, the man who had been his best friend and her own brother's godfather. "Is he alright? Why didn't someone call me?"

"He'll be fine," Captain Flack assured her. "He didn't want some big fuss over it. Hell, he even told Gloria not to call me, but you know how that woman is when she gets her mind to do something, and she had it in mind that I should know. It was just a minor one, nothing to lose sleep over."

"So how does that wind up with you on my doorstep?" Samantha asked.

"Mitch and I, you know we're not that different," Captain Flack explained. "A lot of my buddies that are gone, they were the ones who didn't take care of themselves, who had injuries from the job, who had a few too many doughnut pounds. But Mitch, he's like me – same age, same weight, we worked the same beat…if it could happen to him, it could happen to me, and what then?"

"So you thought what? You'd show up here and we'd what? Hug it out?"

"No…yes…I don't know," Captain Flack sighed. "Look, Samantha, I know you and I have a lot of things to be angry about. I can't expect you to just forget them, just like you can't expect me to forget the things you did. And I know you're still upset about that night, the things I said…"

Samantha scoffed and shook her head at his words, something akin to a disbelieving laugh escaping from her lips.

"Seriously? You honestly think that this – this whole not-talking thing – you really think all of this happened because of that stupid night? You refused to bail me out of jail, so what? Seriously, Dad, if we're being honest here, I don't even remember that damn night, okay? I was so drunk, the only reason I even knew you cut me off was 'cause Donnie told me when he showed up the next morning."

"You don't remember?" Captain Flack asked in surprise.

"You sure seem pretty beat up about it, so I guess it was bad," Samantha shrugged. "But no, I don't remember."

"Then what is this about?" Captain Flack asked. "I know you've been angry at me for years, Sammy, even before that night, but that's the only thing I can come up with that I've done. I can't figure it out, not for the life of me. What the hell did I ever do that was so unforgiveable that you can't even talk to me? Was it something I said? Something I forgot? What was it, Samantha?"

"It's never been about what you did, Dad," Samantha said. "It's about what didn't do, I guess. It's about me needing you and you not being there, about you being so wrapped up in your damn work and your own life that you didn't even bother to see what was going on right under your nose."

"This is about the baby?" Captain Flack guessed.

"How did…oh, of course," Samantha sighed reluctantly. "Donnie told you. Figures he couldn't keep his big mouth shut. I oughta give him a piece of my mind for that, goin' on about how I can trust him and then he turns around and…"

"Don't be upset with your brother," Captain Flack interrupted. "Donnie didn't tell me about Amy."

"Yeah, right, sure. How else would you know? It's not like it's…" Samantha's voice trailed off as she realized exactly what her father had just said. "You called her Amy. How did you…I never told Donnie her name."

"It was on her ID bracelet at the hospital when she was born," Captain Flack said.

"I don't understand," Samantha said in confusion. "How would you…I don't…were you there?"

"Can I come in?" Captain Flack asked gently, noting the way Samantha was gripping the door handle as though it were the only thing keeping her upright and on her feet. "I guess I've got some explaining to do."

Samantha nodded numbly, pulling the door open and stepping back to allow him into the apartment.

* * *

Stella sighed as she poured herself a cup of weak coffee in the break room, grimacing slightly at the acidic flavor only an hours-old brew can boast. Unable to sleep in her apartment, and feeling just a bit too frightened of what might happen if she went back to the hospital, Stella had, by process of elimination, ended up back at work, filling out backlogged paperwork and half-praying for a case to come in that would take her mind of off Jimmy.

"How can you drink that crap?" Danny asked, startling Stella as he walked up behind her.

"Jesus, Danny," she muttered, whirling around to face him. "Didn't your mother teach you not to sneak up on someone like that?"

"Sorry," Danny shrugged, grabbing a cup and pouring himself his own coffee. "You know, one of these days, some higher up is gonna come by and taste this crap, and then let us invest some cash in one of those fancy single-cup machines, and then, voila! Adios, nasty coffee sitting around all day."

"From your mouth to God's ears," Stella laughed.

"So, what are you doin' here?" Danny asked. "You're not on the schedule."

"Needed something to distract me," Stella said.

"From what?" Danny asked.

"None of your damn business, Danny Messer."

"Are you okay, Stel?" Danny asked as she slumped down onto the couch. "You look like crap – no offense, of course."

"You're a real charmer, Danny," Stella said, rolling her eyes as she glared at him. "Remind me again how you got Lindsay to marry you?"

"Ouch," Danny muttered, playfully placing a hand over his heart. "Goin' right where it hurts, Bonasera, that's…"

"Ah, Stella, you're here," Hawkes interrupted, sticking his head into the break room. "I was just about to call you."

"Got a case?" Stella asked hopefully.

"Nope," Hawkes shook his head. "I've got something you might find even more interesting."

"Don't make me force it out of you, Sheldon," Stella said.

"You might want to listen, she's in a mood," Danny said, wincing as Stella turned and shot him what he could only term a real, honest-to-goodness death glare. "Yeah, shutting up now."

"You were saying?" Stella asked, turning back to Hawkes.

"Right, sorry," Hawkes said. "I've got the latest CODIS results. We only run the local database as a first line on cases, because it's a lot cheaper. Anything that doesn't hit local gets to be run statewide every other week, and then anything still cold gets run national once a month, and we…"

"I know how the CODIS protocol works," Stella interrupted. "Is there a point to this?"

"One of your cases got a hit on the national search," Hawkes said.

"Which case?"

"Renee Patterson," Hawkes said, handing her the case file.

"My serial rapist turned murderer?" Stella asked. "Thank God. So the bastard's a previous offender?"

"Not exactly," Hawkes shook his head. "Thank God for the great state of California and their lack of respect for privacy, that's all I've got to say. Did you know that out there, they put anyone arrested for a felony into the system? Not just convicted, _arrested_? Crazy, I think…but good for us, seeing as the hit came from an arrest that never turned into a conviction. Turns out our perp was travelling and got into a fight at an airport. He's local, though."

Stella nodded and eagerly opened the folder, frowning as she read through the information.

"Something wrong?" Danny asked, watching the way her brow furrowed, as though trying desperately to remember something.

"I don't know. I think I…" Stella's voice trailed off briefly. "Oh my God."

"Stella?" Hawkes asked in concern.

"Has anyone else seen this report?" Stella asked, closing the folder and looking up at Hawkes.

"No," Hawkes said slowly. "I figured you'd want to see it first. Besides, you're lead on the case, you get information first regardless."

"Good," Stella nodded, grabbing her cell phone from her pocket. "Look, I'm going to call Angell and go pick this guy up. Just do me a favor and keep quiet on this for a while, alright?"

"Angell?" Danny asked. "I thought Flack was working this case?"

"He is," Stella said. "Or he was. Whatever you do, do not give him this report, do you understand?"

"Why?" Hawkes asked curiously.

"Do you trust me?" Stella asked, waiting as they both nodded. "Fine, then trust me, okay? Do not tell Flack who I'm going to pick up."

* * *

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Samantha asked, taking a seat on her couch, just across from the chair where her father was sitting. "All these years, if you knew, why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't know how," Captain Flack said. "I know, it don't sound like much of an excuse, but you were only talking to me when you were drunk, in jail or both, it seemed. It never really seemed like a good time to say, _Oh, by the way honey, I know you had a baby when you were seventeen_."

"I guess you have a point," Samantha agreed. "I didn't exactly make communication easy, did I?"

"Not really, no," Captain Flack said. "But I never tried reaching out, either, so we're probably even there."

"But you were there?" Samantha asked. "At the hospital? You were there?"

"I was," Captain Flack nodded.

"Where was it?" Samantha asked skeptically.

"Monmouth," Captain Flack said. "St. Catherine's Hospital. November 30, 1998 – it was a Monday morning. She was born at 11:17."

"I don't understand," Samantha said, her voice shaking slightly. "How did you know where to find me? How did you even know I was pregnant?"

"I went through your things," Captain Flack admitted. "You left the pregnancy test in the garbage can in your bathroom. The result was degraded, but I knew what it had been – you wouldn't have left if it weren't positive."

"You went through my trash?" Samantha asked in surprise.

"What did you expect me to do when you ran away like that?" Captain Flack asked. "I was tryin' to figure it out, tryin' to understand what the hell would make you leave like that, and tryin' to find something that would tell me where you'd gone so that I could go get you and bring you home."

"So how did you find me?" Samantha asked.

"I sent your picture to every Catholic charity I could find in the tri-state area. I figured you'd get to a shelter eventually," Captain Flack said. "That eight hundred bucks you took outta my underwear drawer wouldn't last long around here and…"

"You noticed that?" Samantha asked guiltily. "I was sort of hoping you wouldn't have noticed that."

"I figured that's why you didn't take it all," Captain Flack said. "I noticed everything that was gone when you left, Sammy. Every last thing – you took your grandmother's bible. You took that little green monkey I won you at Coney Island when you were six. You took a picture of your mother holdin' you the day you were born. You…"

"You son of a bitch," Samantha muttered, shaking her head as tears welled up in her eyes. "You noticed all of that after I was gone, but where the hell were you when I was still there? Where the hell were you when I needed you?"

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Captain Flack said. "I…after your mother died, I lost my way, I guess. I know it's not enough, and I know you deserve a better explanation than that, but I don't have one."

"How did you know to come to the hospital?" Samantha asked, abruptly changing the subject, knowing she wasn't ready to talk about her mother, not with her father. "And why didn't you come see me?"

"The head of the convent called me when you first arrived at the shelter," Captain Flack said. "She thought I should know where you were, but she told me not to come – she was afraid if I came, you'd run again. I didn't like it, but at least I knew you were safe, so I put up with it. Then when you went into labor, she called again – she said you were asking for me."

"It was the pain talking," Samantha said, a bit defensively. "I didn't know who else to ask for."

"I left as soon as I hung up the phone," Captain Flack said. "Mitch had a hell of a time explaining why I was walking out in the middle of a shift, but I didn't care. I don't think I drove slower than eighty the whole way down there, but I was still too late. By the time I got there, it was all over. You were sleeping and I didn't want to wake you, so I went down to the nursery. Flashed my badge at a few candy-stripers and they let me in. It wasn't your name on her wristband, but I could tell she was yours. And when I picked her up…"

"You held her?" Samantha asked, her breath hitching slightly as she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Well, yeah," Captain Flack said, certain he was about to be yelled at again. "She was cryin' and there wasn't anybody around, so I figured it wouldn't do no harm."

"You held my baby?" Samantha asked again, the tears now falling down her cheek.

"Oh God," Captain Flack sighed, finally realizing that it wasn't him she was upset with this time. Quickly getting up and moving to sit beside her on the couch, he placed her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "Sammy, did you hold her?"

Slowly, Samantha shook her head, her shoulders shaking as she dissolved into tears and her father pulled her into his arms, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as she sobbed.


	23. Crossing The Line

"Alright, this better be good," Angell declared as she climbed into the passenger seat of Stella's SUV.

"Oh, it is," Stella assured her.

"You gonna make me guess?" Angell asked impatiently. "Do I at least get a hint?"

"Remember the Patterson murder?" Stella asked.

"The creepy rape apartment," Angell nodded. "Yeah, that one would be hard to forget. Wait, you got somethin'?"

"CODIS hit on the killer's DNA from an old California case," Stella said. "I've got a name and address, now we just need to go pick him up. Uni's going to meet us there."

"Okay, don't get me wrong, I'm all for takin' jackasses like that off the street," Angell said. "But weren't you working this one with Flack?"

"I was," Stella nodded, not taking her eyes off the road as she guided the car around another corner.

"So why am I here?" Angell asked. "You know he's gonna be pissed about this, right?"

"I know," Stella said.

"I hope you got a good reason for cuttin' him out, then" Angell said. "Do you? Because I'd love to know what it is if you do. This had better be something more than some stupid lovers' quarrel."

"Wh…what?" Stella sputtered in surprise. "Flack and I are not…"

"Relax, Stel, it was a joke," Angell laughed, pausing for a moment and smirking as she studied the other detective's reaction. "Although…"

"Jessica Angell, don't you even go there," Stella cautioned sternly.

"Okay, okay," Angell shrugged. "So, about that reason…?"

"You've been working with Flack for a while now," Stella said. "Have you ever heard the name Kevin Maloney?"

"Sure, he's a friend of Flack's," Angell nodded. "His best buddy from high school. He's some sort of hotshot doctor now, I guess. Runs in a different circle. Flack tried to set us up about a year ago, but I thought he was kinda creepy – way too aggressive, and that's sayin' a lot for my tastes. Why?"

Stella didn't answer, just looked over at Angell and then out the window at the apartment building they were pulling up to.

"Wait…no way," Angell shook her head as she followed Stella's gaze. "Stel, there's a big leap from creepy and aggressive to rapist and murderer. We're not seriously here to pick up Kevin Maloney?"

"The DNA was conclusive," Stella said. "I already talked to the DA's office and they're putting together the charges now. Do you get why I couldn't have Flack on this one?"

"God, he's gonna blow a lid when he hears about this," Angell muttered. "He still thinks of this guy like a brother, Stella."

"I know," Stella said, sighing as she pushed open her door and stepped out of the SUV. "That's why he can't be on this case anymore."

* * *

Captain Flack sighed as he pressed his lips against Samantha's forehead, his arms wrapped tightly around her. With more than a small pang of regret, it occurred to him that this was more than likely the first time he'd actually hugged his daughter in more than a dozen years.

"She was beautiful," he whispered softly as Samantha's tears let up just a bit and she glanced up at him expectantly. "She looked just like you the day you were born. Her eyes – that's how I knew she was yours. Big and bright and blue, with a little sparkle in 'em too. Her hair, her coloring, all of it – it was like bein' in a time warp, and I was back in the nursery, holding you the day you were born. Even her temperament was yours – she had quite the set of lungs on her."

"Hey!" Samantha protested, pulling back slightly to glare at him.

"I'm not saying that's a bad thing," Captain Flack laughed, reaching out to wipe a tear from his daughter's cheek. "She was feisty, that's all I'm saying. That couple that adopted her, I hope they were ready for that, because wherever she is, she's giving 'em a run for their money, I'm sure of it."

"They're doing fine," Samantha said. "They're really good people."

"I know," Captain Flack said.

"How?" Samantha asked curiously.

"I met them," he admitted. "In the nursery that day – they came in while I was holding Amy. I think they were ready to call security on me until I explained who I was."

"And they were okay with you being there?" Samantha asked.

"That's how I knew they'd be good for her," Captain Flack said. "I was all set to go back up to your room, tell you that you were comin' home with me and you were bringing that baby and we were gonna make it work somehow."

"You were?" Samantha asked in surprise.

"I didn't think I'd feel like that, but yeah, I was," Captain Flack said. "That was my first grandbaby – at the rate we're going, maybe my only grandbaby. The thought of someone else raising her, her not knowing me, your brother, your aunts and uncles and cousins…no one would have been happy you were pregnant, Sammy, but we would have loved that baby so much."

"I couldn't do it," Samantha whispered. "I couldn't do it, Dad. She's…she's better off."

"I don't know 'bout better off," Captain Flack said. "But you're right, she'd taken care of. They were real nice to me when I told 'em who I was, told me all about how grateful they were, how they had this nursery all set up for her, the whole family ready to welcome her home. And they told me about you – about how brave you'd been, how strong you were, how that little girl was always gonna know how much her birth mother loved her. They had this baby book…"

"With the pictures," Samantha interrupted knowingly. "Yeah, they showed me that – the pictures of them with me when I was pregnant, of just me, of the sisters with me…they said they wanted her know where she came from."

"I think that sealed it for me," Captain Flack said. "I guess in my head, I had it that they were trying to take her away from you, but they weren't, they just wanted to love her. And they…they had a nurse come in and take a Polaroid of me with Amy, to put in that book."

"So she knows her grandpa," Samantha said with a tearful smile.

"I hope so," Captain Flack said. "But I'll bet she still looks like her mother."

"She does," Samantha said. "I…hold on a sec…"

Captain Flack watched curiously as Samantha quickly pushed herself up off the couch and disappeared into her bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a picture in her hands, smiling nervously as she held it out to him.

"They send me one every year," Samantha explained as he looked down to find the most recent picture of his granddaughter smiling up at him. "It comes through the sisters, of course – they think it's better if I don't know exactly where she is. You know, in case I'm some sort of crazy stalker birth mother or something."

"She's beautiful, Sammy," he said, running his fingers over the image. "She looks…she's still all you, baby, every little bit of her. It's like…it's like lookin' at pictures of you."

"Is that a good thing?" Samantha asked, her hands shoved nervously in her pants pockets as she stood at the edge of the couch.

"It's a real good thing," Captain Flack assured her. "I just…I don't know, when I first went to the hospital, I thought I'd see somethin' else, you know? I knew all the boys in the neighborhood, I thought maybe I'd…"

"You thought you'd recognize her father," Samantha filled in, sighing as she turned away from him.

"Did he know?" Captain Flack asked.

"No," Samantha said softly, her voice shaking as she cast her eyes upward, still facing away from her father. "He couldn't know."

"Sammy…?" Captain Flack said questioningly. "Why couldn't he know?"

Samantha shook her head, not daring to look at him as her eyes filled with tears. Biting her lower lip, she felt her resolve giving way and she knew she was close, far too close, to crossing a line she'd sworn never to cross with her father and brother. She'd risked it with Stella, and again with Adam, but before those relationships had been cemented – if they'd walked away, if they hadn't believed her, it would have hurt but she would have survived. With her family, though – if she took that step, if she took the risk and her father reacted the way she'd always imagined he would – she wasn't certain that was a blow she could recover from.

"Don't pull away now, Sammy," Captain Flack pleaded. "You don't have to tell me who it was. Just tell me what you meant…why couldn't he know?"

Samantha shook her head again, her eyes not moving from the ceiling.

"Sammy…" Captain Flack said again, moving to stand behind her and placing his hand on her shoulder, not missing the way she shuddered at his touch. "Please, Sammy…"

"He…" Samantha paused, her voice shaking almost as much as her shoulders as she slowly turned her head toward him. With a voice barely above a whisper, so soft her father had to strain to hear her, she crossed her line. "He raped me."


	24. Need To Know?

**A/N:** I had planned this chapter to cover a few other things as well as all that it does, but it was getting long and cumbersome, so I've split it...we haven't left Stella/Flack/Kevin behind, I promise! Just moved them into the next chapter!

As always, thank you all for reading!

* * *

Samantha sighed as she paced anxiously along the far wall of the room, ignoring the temptation to just grab her wallet from the table and bolt out the door, leaving her father sitting on her couch, his face contorted in some strange mixture of emotions that she couldn't even begin to read. It had been nearly ten minutes since either of them had spoken – ten long, painful minutes that had seemed to drag on for hours. She still wasn't sure how he was reacting to the news – did he believe her? Was he angry at her? The only thing she knew was that his silence couldn't be a good thing.

For his part, Captain Flack himself wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling – anger, confusion, disgust, shock, rage, they were all fighting for dominance within him. The very thought that someone could have done that, that his little girl had been hurt in that way – he couldn't seem to make up his mind whether he wanted to slam his fist through a wall or rush into the bathroom and puke his guts out. He wasn't even certain who he was angrier at – the bastard who dared to lay a hand on his baby, or himself, for somehow having pushed her so far away that instead of turning to him in her time of need, she had fled his home entirely.

"Maybe you should go," Samantha said quietly and hesitantly, pausing near the door and turning back toward him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, swallowing hard against the bile in his throat. "All these years, why didn't you come to me?"

"Who would have believed me?" Samantha asked. "I'm not stupid, I heard the things they said about me in the neighborhood. No matter if they weren't true, who would have believed that girl? _Everyone_ liked him, Dad. Hell, _I_ liked him, at least until that nigiht. Who would have taken my side over his?"

"Me," he said, glancing up at Samantha, who took a single step closer to him as she carefully studied his face, trying to figure out if he was truly serious.

"You?"

"I woulda been on your side," Captain Flack said. "Sammy, I'm always on your side. No matter what the situation, no matter what you did or didn't do, no matter what anyone else says – you're my baby girl, and I will always be on your side."

"Really?" she asked skeptically.

"Really," he nodded, motioning for her to take a seat next to him. "I'm so sorry, Sammy."

"For what?" she asked in confusion as she sat down.

"That you didn't know that," he said. "Your mother, she was always so good at the talking thing, at the feeling thing – me, not so much. I think too much, I put up walls and I'm not a talker, and I think in a lot of ways, you got some of that from me. But I shoulda tried harder, I shoulda made sure you knew that you could talk to me, no matter what. God, Sammy, it kills me that you still don't think I'd believe you. You're my little girl, I'm always gonna be on your side, Sammy."

"I don't know," Samantha said. "I always thought Donnie was more like you than I was."

"Not even close," Captain Flack shook his head. "That boy has too much of your mother in him to be much like me, but you…"

"You really think Donnie's like Mom?" Samantha asked in surprise. "I don't see it."

"No, I guess you wouldn't," Captain Flack sighed. "God, I wish you'd had the chance to know her as an adult, Sammy. She was feisty, spirited, you definitely got that from her, but Lord almighty, the woman could talk – and did, all the time. Usually didn't think first, either – just spoke her mind, to anyone, about anything. If she was feelin' something, you knew it."

"That does kind of sound like Donnie," Samantha agreed.

"She was stubborn just like me, that you two had no chance of avoiding, I'm afraid," Captain Flack said. "There was this one time, I think Donnie was about seven, he brought home this stray dog that followed him home from school. Well, your mother turned right and called Animal Control, and by the time Donnie'd finished his afternoon snack, that dog was gone. He was so upset, he cried himself to sleep that night, and he told her he hated her. I kid you not, they didn't speak for almost three weeks after that. It was like livin' in a ghost house, 'cause Lord knows you and I didn't do much to fill the silence."

"I don't remember that," Samantha said with a smile. "Donnie really thought she'd let him keep a dog? Mom hated animals."

"Another thing he got from her – your brother, he's always been dangerously optimistic," Captain Flack pointed out. "Never tell that boy something ain't gonna happen, 'cause he'll believe it will."

"Like what?" Samantha asked.

"Well…" Captain Flack paused and frowned as he thought for a moment. "He leads grace every family holiday now, and every time, he says a little prayer askin' God to have you back at the table next time we're all together."

"I do miss the big family dinners," Samantha said. "Even if Aunt Maura's corned beef isn't near as good as Mom's was."

"Don't tell Maura that," Captain Flack said. "My sister would blow a gasket if you told her an Italian made a better corned beef than she did."

"I know, I know," Samantha asked.

"You should come next week," Captain Flack suggested. "It's still Wednesdays, same as always. Donnie doesn't make it most weeks, but a lot of the family does, and some of the old neighborhood kids, too."

"I'll think about it," Samantha said, smiling to herself as they settled into a somewhat more comfortable silence, both of them trying to figure out exactly what to say next.

"So," Samantha finally continued. "Are you gonna ask?"

"Ask what?"

Samantha sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, turning her head slightly so that she could see her father out of the corner of her eye.

"Who he is," she said softly. "It's all Donnie wanted to know; I figured you'd ask at some point."

"Donnie knows all this?" Captain Flack asked in surprise. "Everything?"

"What? No…God, no," Samantha muttered with a quick shake of her head. "He knows about Amy, but that's it, nothin' else. He didn't even take that little bit so good, I figured I couldn't hit him with anythin' else. He totally flipped out on me when I wouldn't tell him who the father was, said he needed to know – I figured you'd say the same thing."

"No," Captain Flack said quickly. "Look, if you want to tell me, if you need me to know, I will listen. But I'm not gonna ask you that, no."

If he were being honest, Captain Flack wasn't entirely certain that, even if she did want to tell him, he'd want to know. Of course, it killed him to know that somewhere out there, the bastard who hard hurt his daughter was walking around free as a bird, secure in the knowledge that he couldn't be punished. Someone he probably knew, maybe even someone he had trusted, had violated her in a way he knew he could never forgive. Not knowing who it was, he knew he'd never be able to look at anyone in the neighborhood the same way again, wondering every time he saw a familiar face if this was the one, if this was the man – although that was hardly a word he'd use to describe the coward – that had hurt her so badly.

On the other hand, what would he do if he did know? He'd spent almost thirty years enforcing the laws of the state of New York, confident that it be enough to protect the innocent, punish the wicked, bring a little bit of justice to the world. Only now, it seemed, not to his world. Even if he got a name, it had been more than ten years – the statute of limitations had long since expired. Any justice that was doled out to that bastard wasn't going to come from the laws of the state, he knew that much – and of course, that left only him. The same laws that would let the other man walk free would surely not fail to hold him responsible for whatever he might do. He had just gotten his daughter back in his life, just gotten the first glimmer of hope that perhaps someday he could have his family back together again – he wasn't sure he was willing to risk losing that chance and spending the rest of his life behind bars because of what he might do if he knew who to direct his anger toward.

He meant what he'd said, though – in the end, this was about his daughter, about what she needed. It wasn't about him, so if what she needed included telling him, if she needed him to know, he would listen, whatever the consequences.

"Okay," Samantha nodded tentatively. "Thank you."

"I meant what I said, baby," Captain Flack assured her. "I want us to be a family again; I want to be a part of your life. And it ain't just me, either, you know – all your aunts and uncles, the whole family, they want you back too. Birthdays, holidays – hell, even just Wednesday night corned beef at Maura's – there hasn't been a time we haven't missed you."

Samantha sighed heavily and shook her head as a paralyzing thought crossed her mind.

"You have to know," she whispered hesitantly.

"What?"

"I can't do it, Dad, you have to know," Samantha said. "I just need you to promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"What are you talking about?" Captain Flack asked.

"I can't go home, not if every time I walk into the neighborhood, I'm wondering if he'll be there, if I'll cross his path or have to spend an evening in the same room as him," Samantha said. "If you want me back, you have to know, because I don't think I'm strong enough to deal with having him around. But I need you to promise that you won't go do anything stupid when I tell you the truth."

"Do I know him that well?" Captain Flack asked with trepidation.

"Yeah," Samantha said quietly. "It's Kevin."

"Kevin? Kevin Maloney?" Captain Flack asked, his voice a muddled mix of anger, shock and disgust.

Samantha nodded silently, slowly taking a step or two away from her father as she saw his anger building, letting out a tiny yelp as his fist connected furiously with her wall before she dissolved into tears.

Pulling his now-throbbing hand back close to his body, Captain Flack started to turn remorsefully toward his daughter, both of them freezing at the sound of a key being turned in the lock.

"You got a roommate?" he asked as Samantha sheepishly turned her head away and looked toward the door.

"Sam?" Adam said in concern as he stepped into the apartment, quickly taking in Samantha's disheveled appearance, the redness of her eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks. Dropping his bag by the door, he hurried to her side, reaching out to wipe a tear from her cheek the moment he reached her. "Honey, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I'm…I'm fine," she assured him half-heartedly, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

"What did you do to her?" Adam asked, angrily turning to Captain Flack. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Me?" Captain Flack asked. "Who the hell are you?"

"I asked you first," Adam retorted.

Captain Flack frowned as he surveyed the younger man. He knew he could drop him in twenty seconds flat – maybe even less, although he wasn't as young as he used to be – but there was something he liked about the tender way he treated Samantha, about the defensiveness in his voice when he spoke to him.

"I'm Donald Flack," he said. "Samantha's father. Your turn."

"Adam Ross," Adam said.

"My fiancé," Samantha explained timidly.

"Your what?" Captain Flack asked in surprise.

"Her fiancé," Adam repeated.

"You're getting married?" Captain Flack asked, still stunned by the revelation. "To him?"

"Yes, I am," Samantha said, holding up her hand so that he could see the ring on her finger.

"I don't quite know what to say," Captain Flack admitted. "You're sure about this?"

"Don't start, Dad," Samantha warned. "You don't even know Adam, you don't know anything about our relationship, don't start judging now."

"I…" Captain Flack began, pausing as Samantha's cell phone started ringing.

"I need to take that," Samantha said, stepping away from the two men and picking up the phone off the counter. Turning back to them, she sighed as she looked back and forth between them. "I'm going to take this in the bedroom. Please don't kill each other while I'm gone, okay?"

With that, Samantha stepped out of the room, glad to be escaping from the tension for just a few moments, leaving Adam and her father standing their, staring suspiciously at one another, each almost daring the other to make the first move.


	25. What You Know

**A/N:** Sorry this has taken so long to get up! For those who I haven't mentioned this to, I am currently choosing to concentrate on one story at a time, so if you also read some of my other stories, please know that I haven't forgotten them, but I just don't have the time or energy to be writing two or three or more stories at once anymore. Fortunately for all of you, this is the one I have chosen to work on first! As a bit of warning, I *think* that there are probably 4-ish chapters left in this story, based on what I want to have happen, and then an epilogue. Just so you can't say I didn't warn you that the end was coming! Okay, enough talk, on with the story...

* * *

Captain Flack frowned as he looked over the young man in front of him, trying to size up this man who was, apparently, on the verge of marrying his only daughter. He wasn't sure what he would have expected for Samantha, but whatever it was, this certainly wasn't it. In high school, his daughter had always dated jocks, the popular types who seemed destine to conquer the world – or at least, as much of the world as one could reach from a run-of-the-mill high school in Queens at age seventeen. And after that, he certainly hadn't had much opportunity to inspect her choice of companionship, but from what he had seen, he would have expected a bad-boy type, tattoos and a strung-out appearance, with a penchant for trouble and a lengthy rap sheet.

Adam Ross, of course, was none of that, which left Captain Flack in a bit of a quandary. He knew any father would be pleased to have a daughter who brought home the first type, and he knew enough to despise the second on sight. But what was he supposed to do with someone who seemed so…so undeniably average?

"So, uh," Adam began nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked down at his feet and his voice trailed off.

"Yeah," Captain Flack said hesitantly. "So, you're going to marry my daughter?"

"Yeah," Adam said.

"You love her?" Captain Flack asked.

"Yeah," Adam said again, this time looking Captain Flack straight in the eye. "Yeah, I do."

"You know," Captain Flack said slowly. "I almost thought you might actually take a swing at me when you first walked in."

"I, uh, I probably would have," Adam admitted. "If I thought you were going to hurt her, I probably still would."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that," Captain Flack said. "Although you don't strike me as the sort of kid who's been in very many fights."

"I, uh, don't really like to fight," Adam said. "So, um, are you going to?"

"Going to what?" Captain Flack asked in confusion.

"Hurt her," Adam clarified. "Because if you are, you should probably just leave right now, because you kind of frighten me and I really don't want to have to hit you, ever, but if you came here to hurt her, or if you think you might, you should know that I would, even if you could probably snap me in half and…"

"Easy there, kid," Captain Flack interrupted, holding up his hand and smiling slightly. "I'm not going to hurt her, you have my word on that. And I know I'm no expert on these things, seein' as neither of my kids has ever really brought anyone home, but aren't I the one that's supposed to be interrogating you?"

"Maybe," Adam said. "But the way I see it, I've never hurt her but you…well, you have…sir."

"You really love her, don't you?" Captain Flack asked, almost more of a statement than a question.

"More than I could ever put into words," Adam said.

"Then I don't suppose I've got any right to get in the way, do I?" Captain Flack said with a smile, extending his hand to Adam. "Welcome to the family, son."

"I, uh…thank you, sir," Adam said, hesitantly shaking Captain Flack's hand.

"So, Adam, do you live here?" Captain Flack.

"Here, as in, here in this apartment?" Adam asked, still intimidated by the man in front of him. "No, no, I don't. I, uh, I have an apartment in Manhattan, not a big one, of course, I don't make _that_ much…not that I don't make enough, I mean, it's enough for what I need right now, and I could make more if I needed to, if I went into the private sector, that would be easy…and I…"

"Adam, relax," Captain Flack interrupted. "I'm not interrogating you, I don't care where you live and I'm not going to be judging your answers or nothing. I'm a dyed-in-the-wool Catholic guy, but I'm not naïve enough to think that either of my children follow the same standards I did growing up. You're marrying my daughter, I just want to know a little about you, that's all."

"Oh," Adam nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"So, you said you could work in the private sector," Captain Flack said. "Where do you work now?"

"I, uh, I work for the city," Adam said. "I'm a lab technician at the Crime Lab. I do a whole range of stuff, but my specialty is forensic DNA analysis."

"You do a lot of work with the homicide division, then?" Captain Flack asked curiously.

"I know your son, if that's what you're getting at," Adam said.

"It was," Captain Flack nodded. "Does he, ah…does he know about this? About you and Samantha?"

"No," Adam shook his head vigorously. "He definitely doesn't know. It's, uh, the engagement is really new, and, uh, there's not really been an opportunity to tell him, seeing as he and Samantha aren't really speaking. I wasn't exactly about to walk up to him at the lab and announce that I'm dating his sister."

"No, I don't suppose that would have gone over too well," Captain Flack agreed with a laugh. "He's always been a little overprotective when it comes to Sammy. We both have…and yet, not protective enough, it seems…"

"You know something?" Adam asked, frowning as he studied the older man, trying to figure out exactly where his statement had come from.

"I don't know," Captain Flack said hesitantly. "Do you know something?"

"I might," Adam said. "What do you know?"

"Oh for cryin' out loud," Samantha said from the doorway to the bedroom. "You both know the exact same things, okay? No one's going to give anything away."

"You told him?" Captain Flack asked in surprise.

"I'm going to marry him, Dad," Samantha reminded him as she walked to Adam's side and slipped her hand into his. "Do you really think that there's anything I wouldn't tell him?"

"Well, how am I supposed to know what sort of relationship you have with him?" Captain Flack asked.

"Was there ever anything you wouldn't have told Mom?" Samantha asked.

"No," Captain Flack said.

"That's the example I grew up with," Samantha said. "Maybe some people are willing to settle for less than that, but they didn't grow up with that, I'd guess. Because having seen that, having seen what a really great relationship is, I'd never settle for anything else, Dad. And what I have with Adam, it's real, and it's amazing and it's…I love him."

"I can see that," Captain Flack said. "So, he knows about Kevin."

"I do," Adam nodded.

"Speaking of which…" Samantha began.

"Was that Stella on the phone?" Adam asked.

"You knew?" Samantha asked in surprise.

"That's why I came home early," Adam admitted. "I thought maybe it would be better if you heard it from me."

"It doesn't change anything," Samantha said. "It's not like it has anything to do with me, not really."

"What's going on?" Captain Flack asked in confusion. "Who's Stella?"

"She's a friend of mine," Samantha said. "She's a detective with the Crime Lab."

"Stella Bonasera?" Captain Flack asked.

"You know her?" Adam asked in confusion.

"I worked a few cases with her when she was a rookie," Captain Flack said. "But mostly I just know of her. Donnie talks about her a lot."

"They do work together," Adam said.

"So what does she have to do with Kevin?" Captain Flack asked.

"Well, see, Stella knows the same things that you both do…you know, about what Kevin did to me," Samantha said. "So she just thought that I might want to know that he's…well, he's been arrested. For murder."

* * *

Stella sighed as she turned back to the booking paperwork on her desk. She hadn't really been able to concentrate since she'd hung up with Samantha almost half an hour earlier. She had been surprisingly calm when she'd heard the news, but Stella had still been glad to hear that Adam was nearby, just in case. She knew that, despite her protestations otherwise, this wasn't going to be easy for her – especially if she didn't come clean to her family and they decided to stand by Kevin.

"Okay, that guy is officially the biggest creep I've booked in a long time," Angell announced as she walked into Stella's office.

"Let me guess, you got nothing in interrogation?" Stella asked.

"He may be a creep, but he was smart enough to lawyer up the second his ass hit the chair," Angell said. "You'll love this, though. He told me we'd never get a conviction because every woman he's ever been with has enjoyed it – even if it took her a while to see it his way."

"Son of a bitch," Stella muttered angrily.

"Exactly," Angell agreed. "Hey, the D.A. stopped by while his lawyer was with him – is there any chance that woman you and Flack talked to would testify? She thought it might be helpful if we can establish the pattern with live victims, even if they only charge him for the Patterson girl."

"I doubt it," Stella said. "I'll ask her, but she claims to not remember anything from that night, and she was pretty hesitant to even talk to us about the fact that she didn't remember anything."

"I hate rape cases," Angell sighed. "When are women going to start speaking up?"

"It's not easy, you know that, Jess," Stella said. "As much as we'd like it to be otherwise, sexual assault cases tend to put more of the burden of proof on the victim than any other crime. That's a lot for a woman to bear, especially a young woman."

"Just makes me hate the bastards who'd do it even more," Angell said. "I swear, it's been a long time since I've actually had to walk out of an interrogation room, but I thought if I stayed down there, I was going to take a swing at the jackass."

"Why do you think I'm up here, doing paperwork?" Stella asked.

"I thought maybe you were just hiding from Flack," Angell shrugged. "Saw him down in booking, by the way. He looked like he was on a warpath – sorry, Stella, but I sure wouldn't want to be you when he finds you."

"So he knows about the arrest?" Stella asked.

"He was quizzing the poor booking clerk about bail, about when we could get him arraigned, all of that," Angell said. "He even tried to get him sprung on his own recognizance."

"He seriously thought a night judge was going to let an accused murderer and rapist out on the streets on his own recognizance?" Stella asked incredulously.

"I don't think he actually looked at the charges all that close," Angell said. "You know how Flack is, act first, ask questions later."

"Yeah, and that's worked out so well for him in the past," Stella sighed. "Alright, well, I guess I'd better go find him before he bites someone's head off."

"You're actually going to go…" Angell paused as Stella's phone began to ring in the middle of her sentence.

"Sorry," Stella said, picking up the receiver. "Bonasera."

Stella frowned as she listened to the frantic voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes, of course, I'll be right down."

"Something wrong?" Angell asked, sitting upright as Stella stood up and grabbed her gun and badge from the corner of the desk.

"Some sort of disturbance down in booking," Stella said, rushing out of her office and toward the elevators, Angell hot on her heels.


	26. As You Were

**A/N:** Super speedy update this time - see what happens when you deprive me of sleep? For those of you who've been anxious to get back to the Fiesta moments, this one is for you! A quick note - please remember when you read this that there was a little time gap between the two sections in the last chapter. And don't forget to review and let me know what you think!

* * *

Adam tried to mentally prepare himself as he flashed his ID card at the frazzled booking clerk and pushed his way into the holding area. It hadn't taken more than a few seconds for Captain Flack to excuse himself when he'd heard of Kevin's arrest. Neither Adam nor Samantha had been particularly surprised at his departure, but that hadn't meant that Samantha had been any less upset about it – not because she'd thought he was abandoning her, but rather because, as she tearfully explained to Adam, she was certain that he was going to kill Kevin.

And just as quickly as he'd seen her heart break at the prospect, Adam had somehow found himself assuring her that he'd stop him, that he'd make sure her father didn't do anything stupid – and then, off he'd gone. The decision, of course, struck him now as somewhat ridiculous – how was he supposed to physically restrain a man who could quite certainly snap him in half without breaking a sweat?

Regardless, he'd made a promise and now found himself pushing through a crowd of uniformed officers who'd formed a semi-circle around the cell. At the center of their enclosure, he found his future father-in-law, pressing a frightened looking man into the wall, his arm pressed into his throat as he shouted at him and a young uniformed officer tried in vain to pull him away.

"You son of a bitch! Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you even care, you sick bastard?!"

Kevin seemed to be trying to eek out a response, but the pressure on his windpipe prevented it from being any more than a squeak.

"Captain Flack!" Adam shouted as he grabbed the older man's shoulder, pulling just enough to get his attention. "Let him go!"

"Back off, Adam," Captain Flack practically growled. "You know what he did to my little girl…you know what he did…"

"That doesn't make this okay," Adam insisted. "Think about Samantha!"

"Who the hell do you think I'm thinking about?" Captain Flack asked, continuing to press Kevin into the wall as he squirmed helplessly. "This bastard pretended to be family, and what does he do? He turns around and rapes my baby girl!"

"I know," Adam said, wincing at the words coming out of Captain Flack's mouth. "He's a jackass, and he deserves to be punished…and he will be, but not like this, not here, not by you."

"I…" Captain Flack began angrily.

"Think about everything he's taken from her," Adam interrupted desperately. "Think about the years he took, about the things she's lost…if you do this, there are witnesses. If you hurt him, even if they think he deserved it, all these officers have to testify against you. Think about that…damn it, don't let this be another thing he does to her! Don't be another thing he takes away from her!"

Captain Flack seemed to relax his grip for just a moment, staring back and forth between Kevin's confused expression and Adam's almost frightened one. He hesitated, torn between the desire for revenge and his concern for his daughter.

"She's not as strong as she acts," Adam continued, sensing he was making inroads with him. "Don't get me wrong, she is tough…the strongest woman I know, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have moments of weakness. She's survived a lot, but she just got you back – and don't think that's not something she's wanted for a long time, because it is…if she lost you, if she lost that connection to her family…I'll be there for her, but I don't know…I don't…"

As Adam's voice trailed off in uncertainty, Captain Flack sighed heavily, releasing Kevin with a force that sent him careening back into the wall one final time.

"What the hell are you all looking at?" Captain Flack said angrily, turning to the crowd of officers near the holding cell. "You forget how to actually do what the city pays you to?"

Even if he was retired, the legend of the decorated NYPD veteran preceded him, and the officers quickly scattered back to their various posts throughout the precinct, leaving Adam and Captain Flack alone with Kevin and the booking officer who had been attempting to break up the altercation.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Stella asked as she and Angell walked into the tiny room.

"Nothing," Captain Flack said gruffly.

"They were just leaving," the booking officer suggested not-so-subtly, earning a sharp glare from Captain Flack before he turned and walked out of the cell without a word to either Stella or Angell.

"Adam?" Stella asked expectantly.

"I, uh, well…" Adam stammered.

"Crazy old man tried to kill me," Kevin said, straightening up and rubbing his throat. "I don't get it, a few weeks ago I was like a son to him and now he's trying to kill me. Someone's been messing with his head, that's for sure."

"Shut up," Adam snapped.

"Geez, what's got your panties in a bunch?" Kevin asked testily.

"You, that's what," Adam said. "You think you're so smart and powerful, but you're nothing but a coward, you know that? That's what a rapist is, a coward."

"I am NOT a rapist!" Kevin protested angrily as Adam turned away from him. "I don't know what the hell you people think I am, but I have never been with a woman who didn't want me. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar, got it? Just because his daughter changed her mind about the fact that she let…"

Kevin's protest was cut off mid-sentence as Adam whirled around, his right fist connecting squarely with Kevin's jaw as a loud smack echoed through the eerily silent room and Kevin fell backward, stunned into silence by the unexpected hit.

"I told you to shut up," Adam said, shaking out his fist before turning and quickly walking out of the cell, past a stunned Stella and Angell, then past a confused Captain Flack, who had remained close enough to see exactly what had taken place in the cell.

"Well?" Kevin said in annoyance as he sat up against the wall, pulling his hand away from his face to reveal a bloodied jaw. "Aren't you going to stop him? He attacked me!"

"Did he?" Stella asked innocently. "What a shame, I must have had my back turned. Detective Angell, did you see what happened?"

"Can't say that I did," Angell shrugged. "Doesn't really sound like Adam, though."

"No, it doesn't," Stella agreed. "Officer Williams? You were here the whole time, weren't you? Did you see Adam Ross attack this rapist?"

Officer Williams hesitated for a moment, glancing down at Kevin before looking back at Stella and Angell.

"No, ma'am," he said. "I can't say that I did."

"Hey! I'm injured here!" Kevin protested. "That didn't just happen, people! I was attacked, and there are surveillance cameras in this room to prove it!"

"You know, I think that camera's broken," Officer Williams said. "You know how city maintenance is…it takes a year to change a light bulb around here."

"He is injured, though," Stella said. "Officer Williams, he's your charge. How do you explain that?"

"He must have fallen, Detective," Officer Williams said. "Tight quarters in here, maybe he tripped on the edge of the bed. Wouldn't be the first time."

"You really ought to be more careful, Kevin," Angell said. "Wouldn't want to spoil that pretty boy thing you got going on. Although, maybe you do…because trust me, you don't really want to know what happens to pretty boys serving life out at Riker's."

* * *

Stella rubbed the back of her neck and tried in vain the work out the stress knot in her shoulder as she pushed open the door to her office, pausing when she saw that it was already occupied.

"Sure, make yourself at home, I don't mind," she said sarcastically, leaning against the doorframe as Flack stared at her from her desk chair, his arms crossed over his chest and an almost frightening look of anger on his face.

"You gonna explain to me what the hell's goin' on here?" he asked.

"You're in my chair," Stella shrugged.

"Don't be cute with me," Flack snapped. "You know damn well what I'm talking about, Stella. What the hell happened today?"

"Today?" Stella asked defensively, taking a step into the office. "Well, today Angell and I arrested a murderer. Today, we took a sick bastard who preyed on innocent young women and we took him off the streets, hopefully for good."

"I don't buy it," Flack said, standing up from the chair and moving around to the front of the desk. "I've known Kevin Maloney practically my whole life, and there is no way he's a killer, Stella."

"Don, the DNA doesn't lie," Stella said. "Plus, he fits the profile of what we were looking for – someone with medical training."

"That's only half the people in this city, Stella!" Flack insisted. "Hell, you and I have medical training!"

"But you and I don't have DNA that was found at the crime scene," Stella said gently. "Kevin does."

"Mistakes happen, damn it!" Flack shouted. "Someone made a mistake with this one!"

"Do not raise your voice to me," Stella said sternly. "You know as well as anyone the level of skill and integrity in this lab, so don't you dare go insinuating that someone on my team screwed up."

"I'm not…" Flack began.

"I get that you're upset," Stella continued. "No one likes to think that someone they're close to could do something like this, but…"

"He didn't do it!" Flack exclaimed.

"Don, he did," Stella insisted, taking a step closer to him.

"Why does have to be Kevin who screwed up?" Flack asked angrily. "If everyone can screw up, maybe it _was_ one of you. Maybe it was you, maybe you screwed up!"

"How dare you!" Stella snapped, her right hand moving toward his cheek, stopping just before impact as he grabbed it mid-air with his own right hand, yanking it away from his face with enough force to cause Stella to cry out slightly in pain.

Snapping her wrist back away from him, Stella glared at him as she rubbed it between the fingers of her other hand.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Stella asked angrily, any sympathy she'd feeling for him now totally gone.

"Jesus, Stella, I'm sorry, I…"

"I didn't ask for an apology, Don," Stella interrupted. "I asked you tell me what the hell is wrong with you right now. And don't give me any crap about knowing him, about him being someone you trust, because I've seen you trust the evidence over your relationships before. Why can't you accept the evidence here?"

"You don't get it, Stella," Flack said. "Kevin, he's not just some guy that I work with – he was my best friend growing up. There's never been a time in my life when I haven't trusted him…if he's who you think he is, then where does that leave me? I told him things I'd never tell anyone else, I trusted him with everything that mattered to me…I let him into my family, Stella."

"Even family sometimes turn their backs on one another," Stella pointed out.

"I've spent so much time with him," Flack said. "I would have known, Stella. If this were true, I would have known."

"Maybe," Stella said. "Maybe not. You're human, Don. Even the best of us get fooled sometimes…and this guy, from what I've seen, he's delusional. There'd be no way for you to tell, because he doesn't feel guilty about any of it."

"I trusted him, Stella," Flack repeated. "With everything…I set him up with Angell…I tried to set him up with my sister…"

"You did what?" Stella asked surprise.

"When she was a senior in high school and we were still just stupid kids hanging around the neighborhood and partying too much," Flack said. "I used to leave parties early, ask him to drive her home…I thought it would be great, my best friend and my…"

"Don?" Stella asked in concern as his face clouded over.

"No," he shook his head, a stunned look on his face. "No, it's not…oh my God…"

"Don? Talk to me," Stella said gently, placing a hand on his forearm as he ran a hand over his eyes and up into his hair.

"She had a kid," Flack said, his mind racing. "She had a kid right after senior year."

"What are you thinking, Don?" Stella asked hesitantly.

"She freaked when I asked about the father," Flack said. "She seemed…I don't know, almost scared…oh God, Stella…I think…what if he…"

Stella felt her anger melting as she watched him run through the possibilities in his head, always coming back to the same heart-wrenching conclusion.

"Come here," she softly, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. "It'll be okay, Don."

Flack sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his head in her shoulder.

"She's my baby sister," he muttered. "If he hurt her…"

"You'll figure it together," Stella said, pulling back slightly and looking him in the eyes. "He's going away for a long time, no matter what happened all those years ago."

"I know," Flack nodded wearily, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm really sorry, Stella…"

"Shhh," she muttered, quickly shaking her head. "Apologies go best with little blue boxes."

Flack smiled slightly as he reached up to brush a stray curl out of face, knowing that they were edging dangerously closer to that line they'd promised to observe just a few weeks earlier.

"Screw the line," he whispered, so softly that Stella almost didn't hear him.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"Would it be really inappropriate if I said I wanted to kiss you right now?" Flack asked, his lips so close to hers that she could feel the heat from his breath as he spoke.

"I…" Stella started, suddenly finding herself at a loss for words.

Taking advantage of her silence, Flack gently placed his hand on her cheek, tilting her head ever so slightly as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, smiling to himself when she let out a soft moan as his tongue brushed against her lips and they slowly parted for him.

"Stella, have you…"

Flack and Stella practically jumped apart at the sound of Samantha's voice, turning to find her standing in the doorway, her mouth stuck half-way open in shock.

"No, no," she said quickly. "Don't stop on my account."

"Sam…" Flack began.

"No, no, no, pretend I wasn't here," Samantha said, waving her hands in front of her. "Please, carry on. I'm just gonna…you know, go find Dad or something…please, don't stop…as you were, people, as you were…"

Flashing a quick thumbs up at her brother while mouthing 'oh my God' in Stella's direction, Samantha looked back and forth between the two of them once more before shaking her head and stepping backward out of the office.


	27. That Thing Between Us

"Oh my God," Stella groaned, covering her face with her hands as she slumped backward onto the couch. "Oh my God."

"Yeah," Flack nodded, staring dumbfounded at the door his sister had just walked out of.

"_This_ is why this thing is a bad idea," Stella said.

"What thing?" Flack asked, turning to face her in confusion.

"You know, this _thing_," Stella said. "This more-than-friends thing. It has to stop. People are going to start talking."

"Relax, it was just my sister," Flack said.

"This time," Stella said. "Next time, who knows? Lindsay? Danny? Mac?"

"Well, maybe it's time we actually talked about this and did something about it," Flack said. "Instead of just dancing around this thing, as you put it, that's sitting there between us."

"There is no 'us', Don," Stella said.

"Yeah, you've made that loud and clear," Flack said harshly.

"Don…" Stella sighed.

"No, you know what, we're going to talk about this, and we're going to do it now," Flack said, placing his hand on the back of the couch and leaning over so that his face was mere inches from hers.

"What is there to talk about?" Stella asked, her voice hitching slightly. "We agreed…friends…"

Flack shook his head silently, leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers, softly at first, then harder, slowly breaking down her resistance with a passion he hadn't let himself show earlier. When he finally pulled back, she let out a low groan, slightly out of breath as her hand lingered on the side of his face.

"Could a friend make you feel that?" Flack asked. "Look me in the eye right now and tell me you'd feel the same way if Danny had just done that."

"I…that's a completely unreasonable question, Don," Stella said. "Maybe there's something more of a spark there with you than…"

"Damn it, don't try to bullshit your way out of this, Stella," Flack said. "There's no maybe in this equation."

"I don't know what you want me to say," Stella said. "You're emotional right now, you're not thinking clearly…"

"I'd think the same things I'm thinking right now any day of the week," Flack said. "Maybe today's bringing them up, but those feelings are there every day, so don't try to make that an excuse, 'cause it won't fly with me."

"So what, is this the part where I'm supposed to go all googly-eyed, admit that I've fallen head over heals in love with you and then we live happily ever after?" Stella asked sarcastically.

"I'm not some naïve teenager, Stella, I know this isn't some fairytale," Flack said. "All I'm lookin' for is some sort of acknowledgement that I'm not alone, that I'm not the only here feeling something."

"You're not," Stella said quietly.

"Well okay then," Flack said with a relieved smile, slowly lowering himself onto the couch next to Stella. "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know," Stella admitted. "I meant what I said last time, Don, I don't know if I'm ready for a relationship."

"Is this about that Kensington guy?" Flack asked, unable to hide the hint of jealously that crept into his voice.

"No…yes…maybe partly," Stella sighed. "I met Jimmy when I was eighteen years old, Don. I've spent more than half my life – basically my _entire_ adult life – being in love with him, thinking he was the only one I could ever love. I can't just let that go overnight, especially not after he pops back up in my life like this."

"So you want me to do what? Just back off and let him have you?" Flack asked. "You want me to wait in the wings until he finds whatever new flaw he'll find to use against you and break your heart again?"

"He wouldn't do that," Stella said. "I'm the reason our relationship ended, not him. And I'm not saying I want you in the wings…I don't even know if I want there to be 'wings' for you to wait in."

"What the hell does that mean?" Flack asked.

"It's not just you I'm confused about, Don, it's him as well," Stella said. "I just don't know what to make of any of this – what I feel when you're around, what I feel when he's around, all the history…I guess I'm just asking you to be patient, to let me figure it all out."

"Figure out if it's me or him you want?" Flack asked.

"Well…it doesn't really sound very fair when you put it that way," Stella acknowledged.

"Because it's not fair," Flack sighed. "But you know what? Life's not fair, and we just have to deal with it. So if that means waiting, okay. I'll let you figure it out. Just do me a favor, alright?"

"What's that?" Stella asked.

"Don't take ten years to make up your mind, okay?" Flack requested. "I'm not getting any younger over here."

"You?" Stella asked in mock indignation. "You're barely in your thirties, you're still practically a baby. I'm the one who's pushing forty."

"You're thirty-seven, that's hardly pushing forty," Flack laughed.

"Says the thirty-one year old," Stella scoffed. "And I'm nearly thirty-eight, don't forget. You sure you'd even want an old lady like me?"

"Trust me, you put women half your age shame, Stella," Flack assured her. "It's you I want, remember that – age is just a number."

"Let's say we did give this thing a go," Stella said. "Hypothetically speaking…where would you see this going?"

"I don't know," Flack admitted. "I wish I did…I know I'd have a lot stronger case if I could look you in the eye and tell you that I was sure we'd make it, that this thing could even work as a relationship…but I can't do that, because I don't know any of that for sure, and I won't sit here and lie to you. All that I can promise is that it's a risk I want to take, that I'm willing to take, and that I hope you are too."

"You sure know how to give a girl a lot to think about," Stella said.

"One of my many talents," Flack said, smiling slightly as he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek before standing up. "I'd better go find my sister."

"Yeah," Stella nodded, watching as he retreated out the door, only to return a moment later, a perplexed look on his face as he hovered in the doorway.

"Forget something?" she asked in confusion.

"I just…it sounds crazy, I know, but did my sister come in here looking for _you_?" Flack asked.

* * *

Samantha frowned and looked around the bullpen, not seeing anyone she recognized. She'd thought for sure she'd find her father somewhere in the precinct, or at least her fiancée. She just hoped that neither of them had done anything stupid and gotten themselves carted off to a cell.

"You look lost."

Whirling around, Samantha found herself face to face with a familiar looking female detective, a slight smirk playing at her lips as she watched Samantha try to place her.

"You're Flack's sister, right?" she asked. "Samantha?"

"Do I know you?" Samantha asked in confusion.

"Jessica Angell," Angell said, extending her hand to the other woman. "I work with your brother. I also picked you up a few months back – a d 'n d, if I remember correctly."

"Drunk and disorderly, that sounds about right," Samantha said with a slight grimace, shaking Angell's hand. "Look, if I said anything back then, I'm real sorry…I don't remember much about those last few months before I sobered up."

"Don't worry about it," Angell said. "I work with the big boys; I've got a thick skin. And you weren't that bad anyhow."

"I'm pretty sure you're lying," Samantha said. "But thanks."

Angell smiled and nodded. "So, you looking for your brother?"

"Um, my dad, actually," Samantha said. "He came down earlier to see a guy who'd been arrested."

"Kevin Maloney," Angell nodded, her mind flashing back to the things she'd heard Captain Flack ranting about when she'd gotten close to him attacking Kevin in the holding cell.

"Yeah," Samantha nodded, noting the sympathetic look Angell was giving her and wondering just how much she knew – and how she knew it.

"He found him," Angell said, placing her hand on Samantha's upper arm and gently guiding her to the side of the bullpen, where they were sheltered from the prying ears of any nearby officers.

"What did he do?" Samantha asked.

"I don't know for sure," Angell said. "When I got there, he had him up against the wall in a chokehold, but he let him go right then and just walked away."

"He just let him go?" Samantha asked in surprise. "That doesn't sound like my dad."

"Well, he wasn't alone," Angell said. "See, that's what I wanted to ask you about. There was this guy, one of the lab techs from upstairs, and he was in there with your dad – it almost looked like he was talkin' your old man down or something."

"Adam," Samantha said, smiling in relief.

"So you know him," Angell said curiously. "That's good. So, maybe you can explain something for me."

"I can try," Samantha said hesitantly.

"Your father walked away because of something that Adam said," Angell said. "I don't know what, 'cause it was before I got up in the cell. But then Kevin says something about Captain Flack's daughter, and the next thing you know, Adam's fist is in the bastard's jaw."

"Adam hit him?" Samantha asked in concern.

"Can you explain that? Why he would do that?" Angell asked.

"Is he in trouble?" Samantha asked.

"No," Angell shook her head. "To be honest, he did what I'd wanted to do from the moment I put the cuffs on that cocky jackass. But Adam? I've never heard the kid raise his voice, let alone raise a hand to anyone."

"He doesn't like to fight," Samantha said quietly, now anxious to end the conversation and go find him, knowing that taking a swing at Kevin would be eating at Adam.

"So why do it?" Angell asked.

"For me," Samantha said.

"And why would he do it for you?" Angell pressed. "What's the connection here?"

"Donnie doesn't know," Samantha said cautiously. "You can't tell him, because I know I need to do it myself."

"Okay," Angell agreed. "My lips are sealed."

"He's my fiancé," Samantha said with a smile, still loving the way the word sounded on her lips.

"Your what?" Angell asked in astonishment.

"My fiancé," Samantha repeated, leaning in conspiratorially. "That means we're getting married, in case you didn't know."

"I…I know what it means," Angell said. "It's just, he's so…and you're so…I mean, he's the geeky lab tech and you…you're…well, okay, all I really know is that you're Don's sister, but I guess that's enough to make it…well, a little bit weird."

"I'm not my brother," Samantha pointed out.

"No, I know," Angell assured her. "I don't know, I guess I just always saw the kid ending up with someone more…I don't know, geekier, I guess."

"I think I should probably be offended on his behalf," Samantha said with a smirk. "I get that we're sort of an unconventional couple, but we just…I don't know, we fit somehow. He gets me."

"Well, you certainly don't have to defend yourself to me," Angell said. "You, uh, you guys are planning on telling Don at some point, though, right? Like, before your first kid gets to high school?"

"He's got to speak to me for me to tell him," Samantha shrugged. "When he decides he wants to do that again, I'll tell him."


	28. Reasons

Captain Flack slowed his quick walk as he exited the precinct, glancing around and almost immediately spotting Adam leaning against the building, his arms crossed protectively over his chest and his eyes cast down.

"So," Captain Flack said, walking up beside him. "You lied to me, kid."

"I what?" Adam asked in confusion. "I don't…"

"You said you couldn't fight," Captain Flack said, leaning against the brick wall, his body language mimicking Adam's.

"When did I…oh, right," Adam nodded. "See, the thing is, I didn't lie. I said I didn't _like_ to fight. That doesn't mean I don't know how to do it if I need to."

"Well, that much is obvious," Captain Flack said. "You'd never know it to look at you, but you throw one hell of a right hook. I'd bet good money you've had training."

"Yeah," Adam nodded. "A little."

"Too bad you don't like it," Captain Flack said. "You could have a lot of talent in those hands, you know."

"I don't want that kind of talent," Adam said resolutely, looking up but avoiding Captain Flack's gaze.

After studying him carefully for a moment, Captain Flack nodded solemnly. "Your father, right?" he asked knowingly.

"How did you…?" Adam stammered in confusion.

"I never bothered tryin' to make detective," Captain Flack said. "Never wanted to; I was damn proud of workin' my streets in my uniform. Don't mean I don't know how to read people, though. Thirty years on these streets, that'll teach you a thing or two. Hell, I can probably read people better those most fancy-pants, smart-ass detectives – my own son included. So, your father?"

"Yeah, my father," Adam nodded.

"Makes sense then, the whole not wanting to fight thing," Captain Flack said. "So why bother to learn in the first place."

Adam sighed and looked back down at the ground. "I have sisters," he said quietly.

"So you said," Captain Flack said, a bit perplexed by this turn of the conversation. "What do they have to do with you learning to fight?"

"My father is…he's…well, a bully, I guess," Adam said. "There was always sort of a rule, unspoken, sure, but a rule – he hit my mother, he hit his girlfriends, he hit me…but he didn't touch them. So when I saw the bruise on Trisha's arm one day, I knew he'd broken the rules. And if I learned one thing from my father, it's that if you break the rules, you should expect to be punished. The next day, I went to the boxing gym down the street from my high school and told them I needed to learn how to fight."

"How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

"How does a thirteen year old pay for boxing lessons?" Captain Flack asked curiously.

"I, uh, I stole my mom's drug money stash," Adam said. "About a hundred fifty dollars, I think. I knew she'd think my father had taken it but she'd never say anything to him. That got me my first couple hours; after that, I think the trainers sort of felt sorry for me, so they let me sweep floors, wash towels, sort equipment…any sort of odd jobs they could find in exchange for training me."

"How long did it take?"

"Before what?"

"Before you were ready to fight back," Captain Flack said.

"I was never ready," Adam said with a sigh.

"You never hit back?"

"I did," Adam said. "I wasn't ready, though."

"He just hit you one too many times?" Captain Flack guessed.

"Not me," Adam shook his head. "My sister Lauren, she was in the kitchen, and she spilled ketchup on the floor. I guess he thought she didn't clean it up quickly enough, because when I walked in, he was right about to hit her. It was, uh, sort of like back there with Kevin, actually…I didn't even really think about doing anything. One minute I was standing there, the next he was on the floor against the cabinets. I don't even think I hit him that hard, not really…it was the shock of it, I think."

"Must have felt damn good, though," Captain Flack said.

"No," Adam said, once again shaking his head. "You know what he did? He was happy. The man was _happy_ that I'd fought back. Said he'd been starting to wonder about me, when I was going to man up. Told me he'd been wondering if I was even his, so it was about time I started acting like him. I, uh, I was never one of those kids who knew exactly what they wanted to be when they grew up. The only thing I knew was that I, well, I really didn't want to be like my father."

"So you stopped fighting," Captain Flack filled in.

"Until today, I hadn't really taken a swing since," Adam admitted. "I just, there wasn't a need, because he didn't lay a hand on my sisters after that day. And I, I just can't do that, I can't be him. I can't let myself be him."

"How old was your sister?" Captain Flack asked.

"Lauren?" Adam asked in confusion. "I don't know, I think she was probably five – maybe six, but no, I think she was five."

"So you hit a man who was older, bigger and stronger than you," Captain Flack said. "And you did it to protect a little girl who couldn't protect herself."

"I guess so," Adam said.

"Your father, he hit a defenseless little girl with no way to fight back, and he did it for no reason," Captain Flack continued. "That's all I know about the man, but that's enough for me to know that you are definitely _not_ anything like your father, Adam."

Adam sighed, not responding to the suggestion as he leaned his head back against the wall.

"I'm serious, kid," Captain Flack insisted. "If I thought for even one second that you could be that sort of man, do you really think I'd be letting my daughter marry you?"

"_Letting_ her?"

Captain Flack winced slightly as he turned to sheepishly face Samantha, who was standing behind him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"You are damn lucky I'm too freaking tired to even think about that comment right now," Samantha pointed out.

"You ready to go home?" Adam asked, pressing himself away from the wall and taking a step toward her.

"Yeah," Samantha nodded, slipping an arm around his waist. "Can you drive me?"

"Of course," Adam said.

"Do you have to come back?" Samantha asked.

"I'm sorry," Adam said regretfully. "They've got us working doubles since we're understaffed; I tried to switch shifts with the new girl, but she never called back."

"No, no, it's okay," Samantha assured him quickly.

"No, it's not," Adam said. "You shouldn't have to be alone tonight."

"I'm a big girl, Adam, I'll be okay," Samantha said.

"Well, uh, you could stay with me," Captain Flack mumbled nervously.

"What?" Samantha asked in surprise.

"If you wanted, that is, just for the night," Captain Flack quickly clarified. "The house is big, but you know that. Plenty of room if you wanted to stay the night."

Samantha frowned as she considered the offer, looking hesitantly up at Adam, who smiled reassuringly and gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

"Okay," she said finally. "Maybe that could be nice."

* * *

Stella quickly bolted her apartment door as it shut behind her, leaning against it and closing her eyes against the world. She'd managed to duck around Flack's question about his sister, chalking it up to him being confused and hearing this wrong, before she'd rapidly excused herself and fled the lab as fast as she could.

She'd left Flack standing there in her office, surely more than a bit confused about her sudden and rushed departure, not to mention her flimsy excuse of an answer to his question. _Poor Don_, she thought to herself as made her way into the kitchen to put the tea kettle on the stove to boil. _So much he still doesn't know_.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and she frowned as she tried to figure out who it could possibly be. Glancing through the peephole, her breath hitched in her throat slightly before she quickly pulled open the door.

"Jimmy," she said anxiously, glancing down at her wrinkled shirt and regretting not taking the time to iron it before heading in to work that afternoon.

"Hi," he said, sounding almost as nervous as she did. "I hope I haven't come at a bad time – I know it's late; I could come back in the morning if I…"

"No, no, it's fine," Stella said quickly. "I only just got back from work a few minutes ago. You're not interrupting anything at all."

"Oh," James nodded. "Well, that's good, then."

"Is something wrong?" Stella asked in concern. "Did something happen with Lana?"

"No, no, she's fine," James assured her quickly. "She's been awake a few times, alert and talking; the doctors seem pleased with where she is."

"Good," Stella said with a sigh of relief. "So, um…what exactly are you doing here, Jimmy?"

"Honestly?" James asked. "I'm not entirely certain. I needed to get away from the hospital, so I just got in the car and before I really knew where I was going, I was here."

"Do you, uh, do you want to come in?" Stella asked, unsure what to really say at that point.

"Sure," James nodded, stepping into the apartment and looking around. "This place is nice, Stella."

"Well, it's a far cry from that high rise we had, but it's the best I could do," Stella said.

"No, no, I like it," James assured her. "I do, it's very…I don't know, it's very you, I guess. Not like the high rise, that was a bit impersonal."

"That's because you let your mother hire a decorator for us," Stella pointed out, leading him into the living room and taking a seat on the couch.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," James protested. "We were twenty-one year old kids, what did we know about decorating an apartment? She said it would be tasteful."

"It was," Stella said. "It was the epitome of taste…"

"And boring as hell," James filled in.

"It was, wasn't it?" Stella laughed. "Do you still live there?"

"No," James shook his head. "I moved back to Mother's about three months after you left; now I've got a place just south of Central Park. That wasn't my apartment, Stella, it was ours. There were too many memories for me to stay."

"Good or bad ones?" Stella asked.

"Both," James said with a wistful smile. "I'll never forget that time you tried to make me a birthday cake…"

_James let out an exhausted sigh as he shut the front door of the apartment behind him, slipping out of the suit jacket that had been stifling him for most of the day and setting his briefcase near the door. Stepping into the entryway, he frowned as a burned smell reached his nostrils._

_Stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, it wasn't hard to locate the source of the smell. Stella was leaning against the refrigerator, staring at a pan on the opposite counter. The oven door was wide open, a small stream of smoke still pouring out, the contents of the pan charred beyond recognition._

"_Stel?" James asked in concern. "What happened?"_

"_Our oven is defective," Stella said, tossing a dishtowel at the pan. "Your mother bought us a two million dollar apartment with a goddamn malfunctioning oven."_

"_What we were trying to do?" James asked, barely holding back his laugher as he took in her disheveled hair, the smudges of chocolate along her cheek and the flour handprints all over her jeans._

"_I was trying to bake a cake," Stella said, crossing her arms over her chest._

"_Why?"_

"_What do you mean, why?" Stella practically shouted, turning to face him as she smacked him on the shoulder. "Because it's your birthday, that's why, you idiot. That's what a fiancée is supposed to do, right? I'm supposed to make you a cake."_

"_Stella, you don't have to make me a cake," James sighed, smelling the liquor on her breath. "You've been my fiancée for several years, and you've never made me a cake before."_

"_Before, we were living in the dorms," Stella pointed out. "We didn't even have a kitchen before. And apparently we still don't, because the oven is broken!"_

"_Are you sure it's the oven?" James asked skeptically. "Because I used it last night and it was fine."_

"_Are you questioning my baking ability?" Stella asked. "I'm working on my master's degree, I can mix complicated chemical compounds without blowing myself up, I think I can follow the recipe on the back of a stupid Duncan Hines box, Jimmy."_

_James stared at her for a moment, contemplating what she had just said. When she reached her hand up and ran it through her hair, leaving a slight trail of white flour in her curls, he couldn't hold it in any longer and he burst out laughing._

"_You think this is funny?" Stella asked incredulously, near tears as she watched him double over. "Your birthday is ruined now, and you think this is funny?"_

"_No," James said, gasping for air as he straightened back up. "No, it's just…"_

"_Just what?" Stella asked._

"_You've got flour in your hair, Stella," he pointed out. "And on your jeans…and your shirt…"_

"_Oh, that's what's funny, is it?" Stella asked, smirking mischievously as she spun around and grabbed something from the counter next to the refrigerator._

"_What are you…" James began to ask, stopping abruptly as a handful of flour landed right on his chest, fluttering down and clinging to his tie, his shirt and his black pants. "You didn't…"_

"_Not so funny now, is it?" Stella asked._

"_Oh, it's still funny," James said, reaching behind Stella as she ducked out of the way just in time to miss the flour he'd launched in her direction. Letting out a shriek, she couldn't escape as his arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her slightly as he pulled her back toward him._

"_Jimmy!" she shouted, slapping his arm in vain as she struggled to get away. "Put me down!"_

_Whirling her around so that she was facing him, he grinned as he reached up and wiped a bit of chocolate from her cheek._

"_My birthday isn't ruined, baby," he said. "All I need is you."_

"I never did figure out what happened to that stupid cake," Stella grumbled, smiling at the memory.

"You had it set at five-fifty instead of three-fifty," James said.

"I what?" Stella asked in confusion. "No, that's impossible, I…oh, right…"

"I smelled the wine on your breath," James said, confirming her suspicion. "You were supposed to be going to meetings."

"I know," Stella said quietly. "Do you ever wonder about it? You know, where we'd be today if I'd been able to stick with it back then?"

James sighed, leaning forward and resting his forearms just above his knees. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Stella.

"Every day," he said.

"Do you think we would have been happy?"

"Yeah, I do," James said.

"Me too," Stella said, smiling softly as the two of them shared a brief glance before both looking away again and letting silence fall over them.


	29. Welcome Home

Early the next morning, Stella smiled nervously as she poured two cups of coffee and set them on her kitchen table. It hadn't taken long the night before for her to realize that both she and James were far too tired and far too emotional to be having any sort of serious conversation. Agreeing that he would come back for breakfast had seemed like a good idea at the time – even if she wasn't sure they would be any less emotional, at least they were sure to be less exhausted. Or at least, she would have been if she'd managed to get any sleep at all.

"What do you suppose we'd doing right now, if we'd stayed together?" James asked, reaching out to take a cup from Stella's hands.

"I don't know, something like this, probably," Stella said. "Having breakfast, getting ready for the day."

"No, I don't mean _now_, right now, I mean generally," James said. "Do you think we'd have gotten married?"

"Yeah, I think so," Stella said. "We would have had the big society wedding…"

"Which we both would have hated," James pointed out.

"But we would have done it anyway," Stella said. "Your mother would have had so much fun picking out flowers and favors and all those things. All we would have had to do was show up, basically. And it wouldn't have been our idea of perfect, but it would have been nice."

"You're probably right," James agreed. "We might even still be living in our old apartment."

"I don't think so," Stella shook her head. "It wouldn't have been big enough, not if we'd had kids."

"You…you think we would have children?" James asked.

"Probably two or three," Stella said. "Just like we always talked about."

"Well, I hope they would have been just like you," James said.

"Oh, I don't know, you got a few good qualities to pass along," Stella said with a smile. "Why did you never have kids, Jimmy? You would have been a great father."

"I couldn't very well do it on my own, now could I?" James asked. "I never found the right woman."

"That surprises me," Stella said.

"Why?"

"Because women flock to you, Jimmy, they always have," Stella said. "You could have had your pick of women."

"I'm not saying I haven't dated," he clarified. "But every woman I've been with has seemed to suffer from one common flaw, and every time it started to get serious, I just couldn't overlook it."

"What was that?" Stella asked curiously.

"They weren't you," James said, setting down his cup of coffee and reaching across the table to take her hand. "I never stopped loving you, Stella."

"It's been thirteen years," Stella pointed out, her voice trembling just a bit.

"Tell me you stopped loving me," James said. "Tell me you moved on and that'll be enough. I'll walk away right now, you'll be my sister's friend and nothing more. Just tell me you haven't spent the past thirteen years loving me like I've spent them loving you."

"I…I can't," Stella admitted. "I've loved you since I was eighteen years old, Jimmy. I never stopped."

* * *

Captain Flack smiled to himself as he flipped a pancake on the griddle in front of him, setting it on top of the growing stack next to the stove.

"You planning on feeding the whole damn Irish army there, Donald?"

Captain Flack shook his head, not needing to turn around to recognize the female voice coming from his back door.

"Morning, Molly," he said cheerily. "You gonna come in or just stand there in the doorway all day?"

"How did you…" she began, pausing and shaking her head. "Right, eyes in the back of your head."

"Thirty years working the beat, you really think you're gonna be able to open that door without me hearing it?" he asked.

"Someday, I will," she said.

"Maybe when I'm eighty and deaf as a doornail," Captain Flack said.

"Won't be that long, then," Molly said, stepping into the kitchen and closing the door behind her.

"You know, you're really not funny, Molly," Captain Flack said.

"So the kids keep telling me," Molly shrugged, opening a cabinet door and pulling out a coffee mug before pouring herself a cup from the pot in the coffee maker.

"Sure, help yourself," Captain Flack said in mock annoyance.

"Oh please, like you really care," Molly laughed. "I'm just amazed I didn't have to make it myself this morning. You expecting company?"

"Nope," Captain Flack shook his head. "And you don't count as company, Mol, you know that. You show up every morning for five years, I'd be worried if you didn't come one morning."

"Well, it's nice to know you care," Molly said, reaching up to pat his shoulder on her way to take a seat at the kitchen table. "But seriously, Donald, what the hell is with all the food?"

"You sitting yet?" he asked, not turning around to check himself.

"Yes."

"Alright then," Captain Flack nodded. "Sammy's here."

Molly's hand froze with her mug halfway to her lips, a stunned look on her face. Slowly she lowered the mug back to the table.

"I'm sorry, I thought I heard you say that _Samantha_ is here," she said in surprise.

"You did," Captain Flack said, sticking the platter of pancakes in the oven to keep them warm.

"Samantha – your daughter, Samantha – the girl who hasn't shown her face in this neighborhood in ten years," Molly said. "That Samantha?"

"Yes," Captain Flack confirmed, pouring himself a mug of coffee and taking a seat across the table from her.

"What's she doing here?"

"Right now, she's sleeping," Captain Flack shrugged.

"But why is she here?" Molly asked.

"I invited her to stay the night," Captain Flack said. "She's my daughter, Molly."

"I'm aware of that fact, thank you very much," Molly said. "It's just…I thought you weren't even speaking to her?"

"Things change," Captain Flack said. "She's trying, Molly. She's got a lot of good things going in her life, and I want to be a part of that. I can't stay angry forever."

"And she's sober?" Molly asked. "She didn't call you from a jail cell?"

"Molly," Captain Flack said with a sigh.

"What? Can't I be concerned?" Molly asked defensively. "I love you, Donald, you know that. I just want to make sure you're not getting into a situation that is going to end badly, for either of you."

"I'm not a child, Molly, I can make my own decisions," he said. "Especially when it comes to my own children."

"Did she at least tell you why she left before you had this big change of heart?" Molly asked. "Did you get an explanation for the last ten years?"

"I did," Captain Flack nodded.

"And…?"

"And it's none of your damn business," Captain Flack said.

"Fine, be that way," Molly shrugged. "I'll just ask Samantha when she gets down here."

Captain Flack sighed in frustration and set his coffee mug down on the table.

"Let me make this crystal clear, Molly," he said slowly. "Samantha had her reasons for leaving, but they are her reasons, and they are personal and painful. Anything she told me is between her and me, and you have no right to question her about any of that. And let me make this clear too – if you do, if you try to force it out of her, or even so much as ask a simple question about it – if you do that, mark my words, it will be the last time you are ever welcome under my roof. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Molly said, the hurt evident in her voice.

"Look Molly, I know you care," Captain Flack said a bit more gently. "I know you want to protect me, and I know you always adored Sammy. But I just need you to back off on this. She wants to come home, she wants to be a part of this family again, but I need you to respect those boundaries. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Molly said.

"Good," Captain Flack said. "Because I have a feeling you're gonna want to be involved in what's coming up."

"What's that?" Molly asked.

"She's getting married."

"She what?" Molly asked in surprise.

"My little girl is getting married," Captain Flack said proudly.

"Oh. My. God," Molly muttered. "You're serious? Twelve children between the three of us, and Samantha's going to be our first wedding? Lord almighty, Maura's gonna flip her lid when she hears this."

"Well, don't go getting too excited, there's no date yet," Captain Flack cautioned.

"Oh, is it one of those?" Molly asked.

"One of what?"

"You know, those engagements that aren't really going anywhere," Molly said. "The ones where the guy only asked to stop her from leaving or something. You know the type."

"No, it's not one of those," Captain Flack said. "He's a good guy, Molly, you'll like him. They're good together."

"You like him?" Molly asked in surprise.

"I do," Captain Flack nodded. "I don't know him well, but he loves her and he'll take good care of her, I can tell, and that's what's most important. The kid's got good character, I respect that."

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my baby brother?" Molly asked with a laugh. "What happened to the overprotective father who threatened Sammy's junior prom date with a rifle?"

"It was not a rifle, it was a revolver," Captain Flack corrected. "And I did not threaten him. I may have had it out when he came over, but that was pure coincidence, I'm sure."

"Pure coincidence that you opened the door with it in your hand?"

Captain Flack laughed and shook his head as he turned around to find Samantha standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her arm crossed over her chest and a bemused smile on her face.

"I swear, I never threatened the kid," Captain Flack insisted. "If that's how he interpreted it…"

"You can't help it, we know," Molly said knowingly, standing up to face Samantha.

"Hi, Aunt Molly," she said nervously.

"Oh, sweetheart," Molly sighed, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around her. "Welcome home."


	30. Lucky Man

**A/N: **Eek...so sorry for the delay in getting this up. The time sort of slipped away before I knew what was going on! To make up for it, this is the longest chapter I've published in quite a while. Enjoy, and those of you who are still with me, please let me know what you think by leaving a review!

Also, just so you all know, there will be one more chapter after this one, plus an epilogue, so things are definitely starting to wind down.

* * *

Samantha smiled to herself as she stood in her father's living room later that morning, staring down at the side table covered in pictures. Her parents smiled back at her from a large silver frame, her mother's face slightly obscured by her wedding veil. In a smaller frame, an eight year old version of herself waved from a sunny beach and she couldn't help but laugh as she picked it up, remembering that just a few seconds later, she'd been in the water, held down momentarily by her brother before she'd flipped him over in the surf and begun fighting back.

"Was it him?"

Samantha whirled around quickly, the picture clattering to the ground as she practically jumped out of her skin at the unexpected male voice.

"Jesus, Donnie, you scared the hell outta me!" Samantha exclaimed, crouching down to pick up the frame.

"Was it him?" Flack repeated.

"Was what who?" Samantha asked in confusion.

"Kevin," Flack said, getting almost enough answer from the way her face clouded over at the mention of the name. "He's the one, isn't he? The father of your baby?"

"Donnie, don't do this," Samantha shook her head.

"Just tell me," Flack insisted. "Was it him?"

Samantha shut her eyes and sighed as she felt the tears coming quickly, turning her head away slightly as she nodded silently.

"Damn it," Flack muttered. "Did he…"

Samantha nodded again, barely even glancing over at him as he struggled to even get the question out.

"Son of a bitch!" Flack exclaimed angrily. "How did I not see it? How the hell did I miss that?"

"You weren't looking," Samantha said quietly.

"What?" Flack asked in confusion.

"You weren't looking," Samantha shrugged. "No one was. And I didn't want to be seen, not really."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Flack asked.

"I didn't think anyone would believe me," Samantha said. "You know how Dad was…how you were…he was your best friend."

"You're my sister," Flack countered.

"Don't do that, Donnie," Samantha shook her head. "Don't go painting the past in all these pretty colors, making out like we had some great relationship, because we didn't. You were never here, you went to extra effort not to be, so don't act like we stayed up late at night telling each other secrets, 'cause you know that wasn't us."

"You still could have told me," Flack insisted.

"Maybe," Samantha said. "Maybe not. I don't know…and you can't say for sure you would have believed me back then, so don't even try."

"So what were you going to do about it?" Flack asked.

"What do you mean?"

"If you hadn't gotten pregnant, what were you going to do?" Flack asked.

"Finish high school and get the hell out of here," Samantha said.

"You weren't going to tell anyone?" Flack asked. "You were just going to let him get away with it?"

"I was seventeen, Don. _Seventeen_," Samantha said defensively. "I was scared shitless and I didn't see any other way. Maybe I could have said something, maybe things would have been different, but I didn't see any other way."

"But if you hadn't…"

"Maybe things would have been different? Maybe that other girl would still be alive?" Samantha filled in, her voice rising as she spoke.

"I didn't say that, Sam," Flack said sympathetically.

"You don't have to," Samantha shook her head, the tears streaming down her face now. "You think it hasn't occurred to me? You think I don't think it too? That if I'd spoken up, that if I hadn't been so afraid, maybe he'd still be in jail, maybe she'd still be alive? Believe me, Don, anything you can think up, I already think it!"

"Sam…" Flack said, stepping forward and tentatively resting his hand on her forearm, taking encouragement from the fact that she didn't pull away. "Sam, this wasn't your fault. What Kevin did that woman, that's on him, not you."

"God, my shrink is gonna have a field day with this one," Samantha said with a dry laugh.

"Your shrink?" Flack asked in confusion.

"Just this lady I've been talking to," Samantha said nonchalantly. "She's a therapist, not really a shrink. Works down at the Women's Crisis Center. Stella thought it would be a good idea, and I gotta admit, it's not a total waste of time."

"Stella?" Flack asked, his eyebrow arching up in surprise.

"Crap," Samantha muttered. "I really gotta learn to shut my mouth."

"How exactly do you know Stella?" Flack asked curiously.

"Friend of a friend of a friend," Samantha said. "None of your damn business. Ask her."

"I did," Flack said. "She didn't have much to say about it."

"Before or after your little office make-out session?" Samantha asked with a smirk.

"After…and I'll thank you to stay out of that part of my life," Flack said.

"Yeah, not likely," Samantha said. "So does this mean you two are finally an item?"

"No," Flack said. "And what do you mean, finally?"

"I cannot be the only one who thought you two were perfect for each other ages ago," Samantha said. "And that sure wasn't a friendly kiss back there, Donnie. If you two ain't an item, what are you?"

"I don't know," Flack said. "You'd have to ask her."

"Well, I hope you don't dance around it forever," Samantha said. "This being in love thing's kind of fun."

"What do you know about it?" Flack asked.

Samantha smiled nervously, biting her lower lip and smiling as she held up her left hand so that her small diamond sparkled in the light.

"What the hell is that?" Flack asked.

"It's a diamond," Samantha said.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," Flack said. "What the hell's it doing on your finger?"

"It's an old tradition, something about marriage and whatnot," Samantha said, barely holding back her laughter at the look on her brother's face.

"You…you're married?" Flack asked in shock.

"Only one ring, genius," Samantha said. "I'm engaged."

"You're getting married," Flack said, trying to reconcile the information in his head.

"Ding, ding, ding, somebody give that man a prize," Samantha laughed.

"But…I don't…who?" Flack asked.

"Okay, don't freak out," Samantha said.

"Why would I do that?"

"Well, you sort of know him," Samantha said. "He maybe sorta works with you."

"Works with me?" Flack repeated in confusion. "Who the hell…not Rodriguez from Vice? He's got a girl, I think."

"No, not him."

"Who then?" Flack asked.

"Adam," Samantha said.

"Adam Caletti?" Flack asked. "Narc detective?"

"No," Samantha said carefully. "Adam Ross."

"Ada…no, no way," Flack shook his head. "The only Adam Ross I know is a lab geek. He's…he's a _lab_ guy, Sam."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Samantha said.

"It's just…Adam? Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," Samantha said. "I'm in love, and I'm getting married."

"Isn't it a little fast?" Flack asked. "I mean, when did this start? A few months ago, you were going on about some guy you met at Christmas."

"Yeah, Adam," Samantha said.

"Right," Flack nodded. "Does Dad know?"

"He does," Samantha said. "I even think he likes him."

"And you're sure you're not moving too fast?"

"Don't start with me, Donnie," Samantha sighed. "A lot's changed in my life, which you'd know if you'd been around instead of flying off the handle every time I told you something you didn't want to hear. Things are good now, I'm doing good, for once I don't feel like it's all about to cave in on me any second. Just let me have that for a little while, Donnie. Even if that feeling doesn't last, just let me have it a while without you trying to tear it down."

"I just want you to be happy and safe," Flack said. "That's it."

"I am," Samantha said. "Can't you just give us a chance? You've probably never even looked at him as a real person, have you? As someone other than the kid who hands you the test results?"

"Now that's not fair," Flack protested. "I know he's a good kid, a tough kid when he needs to be. I've seen that. I'm just havin' a hard time seeing him and you together."

"Then could you at least wait 'til you've seen it before you go trashing us?" Samantha asked.

"I could probably do that," Flack agreed.

"Good," Samantha nodded. "So, about you and Stella…"

Flack shook his head to cut off her question. "That one's outta my hands, Sam, it's not up to me anymore."

* * *

Stella glanced nervously down at her feet as she and James walked side by side down the street, slowly making their way to the hospital. They'd stumbled through a few attempts at a conversation over the past hour, but every time, they'd fallen back into the same awkward silence, unsure how to handle themselves around one another.

"So, we're almost there," James said hesitantly, stopping at a crosswalk and waiting for the light to change.

Looking up at the street sign, Stella nodded in agreement.

"They're going to ask questions, you know," James continued. "Eddie, my mother, Lana, Marissa…they're going to talk when we show up together; they're going to want to know what's going on."

"What is going on, Jimmy?" Stella asked.

"I don't know," James admitted. "I guess the only thing we've agreed on is that we both still love each other."

"I don't think love was ever our problem, Jimmy," Stella said.

"No, I suppose it wasn't," James agreed. "I just don't want to think that we missed our chance for everything we dreamed of."

"Why now?" Stella asked curiously.

"What?"

"Why now?" Stella repeated. "Why are you telling me this now? Why not a year ago, why not five years ago? It's not like there hasn't been plenty of time, Jimmy. If you're so afraid of us missing our chance, why haven't you tried sooner?"

"I don't know," James admitted. "I guess I was scared."

"Of what?"

"What I'd find if I went looking for you," James said. "Part of me was afraid you wouldn't have moved on, that you'd still be heading down that same path you were when I left, and it wouldn't have been fair to either of us to try again if that were the case."

"So if Lana hadn't been in that crash, you never would have wanted to give us another chance," Stella said.

"That isn't what I said," James said, shaking his head as reached out to take Stella's hand, halting their walk and turning her to face him. Softly, he ran his hand along her cheek and tilted her head up so she was facing him. "I have _always_ wanted to be 'us' again, Stella. Not a day went by that I didn't think about you, wonder what you were doing, where you were, if you were happy. I may have been too scared to do anything about it, but don't doubt for a second that you were _always_ on my mind."

"I don't doubt that," Stella said. "I just wonder what would have happened if we hadn't both been at the hospital yesterday, Jimmy. Would this conversation ever have even happened?"

"I don't know," James admitted. "Isn't the point that it did happen, though? That fate brought us back together? I have to believe that we're here, in this moment, in this place, for a reason."

"Jimmy, we're standing in the middle of Amsterdam Avenue," Stella pointed out.

"Metaphorical place, Stel, not literal," James said with a laugh.

"Right," Stella nodded, smiling back at him. "And what do you think that reason is?"

"We're here because we're supposed to make this work," James said. "We're supposed to have another chance to get it right. We can still make up for lost time, Stella. I know we can't rush things, but just think about it – we could still have it all. We could be together, we could get married, have children, travel the world – do everything we've always dreamed of doing. That's why we're here right now, that's why we were brought back together. Maybe I wouldn't have taken the risk on my own, but sometimes, fate has a way of pushing us where we're supposed to be."

Stella sighed as looked up at James, a small frown forming on her face as she realized his weren't the only words echoing in her head.

_I wouldn't have taken the risk on my own…_

_All that I can promise is that it's a risk I want to take, that I'm willing to take…_

"What are you thinking?" James asked anxiously.

"Maybe that's not why you're here," Stella muttered to herself, her brow furrowing as she spoke and her gaze drifting away from James.

"What?" James asked in confusion. "Stella?"

Shaking her head, Stella looked back up at him, a sort of sadness reflecting in her eyes.

"I don't think we're supposed to have another changes, Jimmy," she admitted quietly. "We had our chances when we were younger, and we blew it. I don't think that's why we're here."

"There's no other reason," James protested.

"Yes, there is," Stella said, choosing her words carefully and cautiously.

"Care to let me in?" James asked.

"We're here so that we can move on," Stella said. "Both of us, just not with each other."

"I don't understand," James said. "I thought you still loved me."

"I do love you, Jimmy," Stella said. "Part of me will always love you, but it's time that part of me stopped holding me back from letting anyone else in. And I know part of you will always love me, but you have to stop letting that part hold you back, too."

"I don't just love you, Stella, I'm _in love_ with you," James insisted.

"No, you're not," Stella said. "I know you think you are, and until recently, I thought I was in love with you, too. But we're not in love with each other, Jimmy, we can't be. We don't even know each other."

"That's not…" James began.

"It is true," Stella interrupted. "The me that you're in love with, she doesn't exist, Jimmy. She hasn't existed in years. I'm not the same girl I was when we fell in love, Jimmy – I can't be, that girl was an eighteen year old kid. Even the woman I was when we broke up, she's not me. And if you're being honest, you're not the same man you were back then, either. People change, and we're not immune to that."

"I don't care if you've changed, Stella," James said. "We could still be happy together. You could still want this."

"I'm the safe choice, Jimmy," Stella said. "I'm here, and I'm safe. And yes, maybe we could be pretty happy, but we're never going to have what we once did. We don't even want the same things anymore."

"I don't think I'm following you," James said.

"I don't want kids, Jimmy," Stella said. "I'm not even sure I want to get married – to anyone. I don't want to travel, I want to work. So many things have changed…and yes, I could take your offer and we could be pretty happy together, but is that enough for you, really? Don't you want what we had back when first fell in love?"

"There's someone else, isn't there?" James asked sadly.

"I don't know," Stella said with a sad smile. "And I'm not lying here, Jimmy, I really don't know. There could be, there's a possibility of something, but I don't know. All I know is that if I want to be happy – really, truly happy – I have to accept that we're different people now, and we can't be what were fifteen years ago. And I know I have to be willing to take a risk."

"What if there isn't someone else out there for me?" James asked. "What if you're it?"

"I'm not," Stella assured him. "I can't make you happy, Jimmy, not really. But if you can let me go, I really think there's someone else out there who can."

"How can this be so easy for you?" James asked.

"It's not," Stella said. "It's just, this is sudden for you, Jimmy. Now that I'm actually putting it into words, I guess it's not new for me, not entirely. I've had some time to get used to the idea of really moving on."

"Does it get easier?" James asked. "Because this hurts like hell all over again right now."

"I think it does," Stella said, reaching up and running her palm along his cheek. "I do love you, Jimmy. Nothing will ever change that."

"Just not the right way anymore," James sighed, placing his hand over hers and holding it in place for just a moment before releasing her. "We'd better get to the hospital before Mother starts to worry."

"I don't think it's such a good idea for me," Stella said reluctantly.

"Stella…" James said softly, reaching out and taking her hand as she took a step backward, as though to pull her along with him. "Lana loves you like a sister, Mother thinks of you as a daughter…hell, Eddie likes you better than he's ever liked me. They're your family, too, Stella. I'm not going to ask you to stay away this time, it wouldn't be fair, not to them…not to you."

"Thank you," Stella said gratefully. "I still don't think it would be a good idea today, though, not with this all so fresh. Besides, I, um, I have someone I need to see. Will you tell Lana I'll come by tomorrow?"

"Sure," James nodded, finally releasing Stella's hand.

"Thanks," Stella muttered, quickly turning away.

"Stella?" James called out suddenly, his voice hesitating slightly at the end of her name, as though he were unsure if he actually wanted to say what he'd originally intended.

Stella turned around slowly, looking back at him expectantly, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

"I…I hope he knows how lucky he is," James said, shaking his head as Stella opened her mouth to protest. "Stella, I know there's a 'he' in this picture somewhere, it's okay. I just…whoever he is, just make sure he knows that he's a lucky guy."


	31. What I'm Looking For

**A/N:** Okay, I warned you this was coming...this is the last "official" chapter of this story. There will be an epilogue, but this is the last of the main story. I hope it satisfies what you all were looking for!

* * *

Stella glanced anxiously down at her phone for what must have been the hundredth time, shoving it back in her pocket and leaning forward to rest her hands on the edge of the small bridge she was standing on. It had been nearly an hour and a half since she'd sent him the message to meet her here, and she was starting to think that perhaps he wasn't going to show.

_It's probably for the best,_ she mused silently. _This could have been a bona fide disaster._

Despite her misgivings, though, she still hoped that he would come, even as the possibility grew less likely with each passing minute. Whatever his response was, she needed to at least put herself out there, she'd already promised herself that. She knew that she owed herself at least that effort, no matter what the outcome was.

"You're late," she said softly, suddenly sensing him approaching behind her.

"I was in Queens," Flack said, taking a step forward so that he was standing beside her, carefully leaving a space between their bodies. "Had a thing or two to sort through my sister."

"Is everything alright?" Stella asked in concern.

"It will be," Flack said. "She's getting married, you know."

"I know," Stella said, earning a questioning glance from Flack.

"Just how well do you know my sister?" he asked skeptically.

"That's one of the things we need to talk about, I think," Stella said.

"What else is there?" Flack asked. "What's going on?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," Stella said hesitantly. "About where I am in my life, about where I've been, where I'm going, what you're offering me…"

"You picked him, didn't you?" Flack interrupted dejectedly. "You don't have to answer that, I can see it. It's okay, I guess I knew you would. I…I really hope you're happy with him, I do. I'm just…I'm going to go now, I think…"

Stella sighed as he turned and started to walk away. Shaking her head, she quickly pushed away from the bridge and hurried to catch up to him on the path. Reaching out, she grabbed his arm and pulled gently until he turned to face her.

"Don," she said softly.

"Don't, Stel," he shook his head. "I respect your decision, I do, but I can't stand here and…"

Flack's protest was quickly interrupted as Stella placed a finger over his lips, silencing him momentarily before leaning forward and kissing him softly.

"I…" he stammered as she pulled back with a small smile.

"I didn't pick him," Stella said. "And when I said we needed to talk, I kind of meant both of us, not just you and the me in your head."

"You didn't pick him?" Flack asked in confusion. "But…what about what you said? All those years of loving him?"

"I'll always love Jimmy, but that doesn't mean I'm in love with him," Stella said. "We've changed over the years, we're not the same people we were. We don't even know each other anymore, not really."

"So what does that mean for us?" Flack asked. "Because I do know you, Stella, and you know how I feel, we've been through that."

"That's what we need to talk about," Stella said. "There are things you need to know before you make a decision, Don, things about me that might…"

"That might what? Change my mind?" Flack interrupted, reaching out and placing a hand on her cheek. "There's nothing you could come up with that would do that, Stel."

"You don't know that," Stella insisted.

"Try me," Flack dared.

"Well…I'm physically incapable of sleeping past five in the morning," Stella said, clearly stalling just a moment longer. "And I've been told I snore. Loudly."

"I'll buy earplugs," Flack said with an amused smile, leaning forward and kissing her softly. "Is that all?"

"I don't want kids," Stella admitted. "I know that's the sort of thing everyone thinks I'll change my mind about, but I won't. There was a time when I did, but I don't want to be sixty when my children are graduating from high school. I just don't want to do it."

"Okay," Flack nodded.

"Okay?" Stella asked in confusion.

"I'm not sayin' I haven't entertained the idea of having kids once or twice," Flack admitted. "And yeah, I think if you and me had kids, they'd be damn cute…but honestly, it's not something I'm hung up on, Stel. It's not like I've been dreaming of babies or anything. I always just figured, maybe it'll happen, maybe it won't. So you not wanting kids, that's not gonna scare me off. Try again."

"I'm an alcoholic."

* * *

Adam paused as he made his way up the front walk at the Flack house, spotting Samantha sitting on the front steps, her knees crossed in front of her and a light smile on her face as she stared off into space.

"You look like a woman with a secret," he observed, taking a seat beside her.

"Maybe I've got one," Samantha said with a smirk, leaning her head on his shoulder and staring out at the street in front of them.

"Care to share?"

"Not just yet," Samantha shook her head, not lifting it from his shoulders. "Don't want to be embarrassed if I'm wrong."

"Can you at least tell me what it's about?" Adam asked. "Or who?"

"Donnie," Samantha said, smiling again as she thought about the way he'd taken off like a bat out of hell the minute he'd gotten that text over an hour ago. She was almost certain she knew who it was from, and if she was right, things were definitely moving in the right direction for her brother. She just prayed she wasn't wrong about what the results of that message would be.

"Did you, uh, tell him about us?" Adam asked nervously.

"Don't worry, he's not gonna kill you," Samantha said. "Yet."

"Yet?" Adam gulped.

"I'm just teasing, baby," Samantha laughed, kissing his cheek softly. "He was…well, surprised, I guess, but he'll get used to the idea when he sees us together. Trust me, if you can win over Dad, you'll be fine with Donnie."

"Good," Adam said. "Because I'm kind of looking forward to living long enough to marry you."

"You're really kind of sappy sometimes, you know that?" Samantha laughed. "It's pretty obvious you grew up with a whole bunch of girls around."

"Speaking of which…"

"What?" Samantha asked suspiciously.

"My sisters are, um, well…they sort of want to meet you," Adam said.

"Meet me?" Samantha asked in surprise. "Why the hell would they would want to do that?"

"Um, I guess because we're getting married," Adam said. "I don't know, I called Stacey and I called Lauren and I guess they called the others, because now they all want to come out here and meet you."

"All five of them?"

"You did know that you'd have to meet my family at some point, right?"

"I don't know, I guess it just never occurred to me, what with them being so far away and not being close to you," Samantha said. "I mean, you don't even talk to most of them on any kind of regular basis."

"Just because I don't talk to them doesn't mean they're not still my family, or that they're not important to me," Adam said. "But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can…"

"No, no, it's okay, I do want to meet them," Samantha interrupted. "It's just, it's weird for me, you know? All these steps I've never taken before. I'm not exactly the sort of girl you take home to meet the family."

"Will you stop saying things like that?" Adam sighed. "You're the _only_ girl I want to introduce to my family, and I wouldn't change a thing about you. I love you."

Samantha smiled softly and nodded, tearing up just a bit as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

"I love you too," she said. "I guess maybe sometimes I need to hear you say it again."

"Anytime," Adam said. "That's what I'm here for."

* * *

Flack stared in stunned silence at the path in front of him, not really seeing anything as he tried to process everything he'd just heard. Behind him, Stella's eyes never left his back, carefully watching his every twitch, anxious for some sort of response and terrified of what it might bring.

"I should have known," he said eventually.

"What?" Stella asked in confusion.

"I knew something was wrong," Flack said, turning back to face her again. "After Frankie, after Aiden…you were different. Distracted. Withdrawn. I knew something was going on with you, but I never put it all together. I should have figured it out."

"I didn't want anyone to know," Stella said. "It's not exactly something that's looked highly upon in our profession."

"No, I guess it's not," Flack agreed.

"That's why no one could know," Stella said. "I thought I could handle it on my own…I thought I had to. And then things just started getting out of control…you'd think after all those years, I wouldn't have to keep figuring out that I can't…or that I don't have to."

"I don't really know what you want me to say here," Flack said.

"You don't have to say anything, really," Stella said. "Like I said, it's just something I needed you to know now, before things go any further…if they're going to go any further."

"If?" Flack asked, shaking his head. "You really still think you're going to scare me away, don't you?"

"It's a lot to take in," Stella said. "It would scare a lot of guys."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a lot of guys, am I?" Flack asked.

"You're really okay with this?"

"I'm not perfect, Stella," Flack said. "I'm stubborn and I have a temper and I overreact and I speak without thinking. I'm a pain in the ass sometimes, and I never realize it until it's too late. I'm not perfect, and I don't expect you to be. We've all got our secrets, we've all got crap in our lives that our partner is going to have to put up with."

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts," Flack interrupted. "I love you, Stella, and nothing you tell me is gonna change that. Nothing, you got it?"

"I think so," Stella said hesitantly. "I don't understand why, though."

"I know you don't really have a lot of happy people examples to look to, but I do," Flack said. "My parents, they were together for almost twenty years before my ma died. And, Lord almighty, the two of them fought like you wouldn't believe. I swear, they could keep half the neighborhood up if one of 'em was really pissed off."

"I thought we were talking about happy couples," Stella interrupted.

"That's the thing, they _were_ happy," Flack said. "They had problems, and they never made any effort to hide them, not even from me and Sam. They were in love, and nothing was going to change that. She's been gone fifteen years, and you know he still goes to see her every morning at the cemetery? He's only missed maybe three times in fifteen years – that time I got blown up, he was with me at the hospital; when my uncle Richie died, he stayed with my aunt Molly for a few days; and after Sam disappeared, he spent every spare minute he had those first few weeks looking for her. Other than that, he's been there every morning."

"He must have really loved her," Stella said.

"That's what I want, Stella," Flack said. "That's why I haven't settled down before, because that's what I'm looking for. I don't know if everyone gets to find it, but I've been looking, and I really think if I'm going to have that kind of love with anyone, it's gonna be with you. And if that's what we've got, you better damn well believe it'd take a lot more than a few skeletons in your closet to keep me away."

"In that case, I guess I just have one question left," Stella said.

"What's that?"

Stella smiled, reaching her arms up and wrapping them around his neck, looking straight into his eyes, which were smiling almost as brightly as hers.

"What the hell took us so long?"


	32. Epilogue

Samantha Flack kept her eyes focused on a spot a few feet in front of her, not daring to shift her gaze as she walked slowly down the busy hallway, her uncomfortable black heels clicking against the marble floors as she made her way toward the ominous door that was now a mere ten or so yards away. Twice, she nearly turned and ran from the building; twice, she had to talk herself back into putting one foot in front of the other and continuing on.

In her heart, she knew this was something she needed – a small piece of closure that was a decade overdue. Nevertheless, there was nothing she could tell herself, no knowledge she could impart to herself, that could make it any easier to pull open that door, no when she knew exactly what – or, more specifically, _who_ – would be on the other side.

Taking a seat in the very back row, she busied her trembling hands with smoothing out imagined wrinkles in her black pencil skirt. She allowed her mind to wander, focusing on anything except what she was waiting for, until the sound of everyone standing up around her startled her back to the present and onto her feet with them. As the door at the side of the room swung open, she sucked in a breath, steeling herself for the rush of emotions she was certain was about to overtake her.

A few minutes later, there he was, clad in a crisp, carefully tailored navy blue suit, a smug expression on his face that faltered only slightly when he caught sight of her through the crowded audience. As he stared at her, and she back at him, she continued to steel herself, waiting expectantly for the anger, the bitterness or the fear to come rushing in. To her surprise, though, there was nothing. No pain, no anger, no fear – only a strange feeling she could truly describe only as _nothing_. She couldn't quite describe it as calm, but it was certainly surreal.

Slowly, she drew her shoulders back as she stared straight at him, her body almost challenging him of its own accord, sending him her silent message. _You don't scare me_, it said wordlessly. _You don't have any power over me, you sick bastard_.

For a moment, his gaze lingered on her, almost daring her into a battle of wills that she was fully prepared to engage in, until he suddenly looked away and the whole room took their seats. Samantha sat perfectly still as she half-listened to the judge's speech and instructions, her eyes never leaving the back of his head, silently boring a hole as she repeated her silent prayer for the verdict.

After a few minutes, a slight rustling sound beside her alerted her to the arrival of another observer. She didn't need to turn her head to recognize his presence, so it came as no surprise to her when she soon felt a strong hand slip over her own and squeeze it gently in support. She hadn't truly expected him to be there, but these days, nothing surprised her anymore.

Much sooner than she'd anticipated, the courtroom fell eerily silent as the jury forewoman rose to her feet and slowly read off a sheet of paper in her hands, not looking up at the man standing just a few feet away behind the table. Samantha watched the whole thing stoically, sitting silently as the judge certified the verdict and dismissed the jury, not even flinching when he ventured a quick glance to the back of the room before leaving the courtroom, not moving as the crowds quickly filed back out into the hallway.

"It's over, Don," she said quietly, finally breaking her silence.

"You okay?" Don squeezed her hand again, neither of them moving to leave their spot in the now-empty courtroom.

"I thought I'd feel different."

"How?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Happy. Free. Relieved, maybe?"

"How do you feel?"

"The same," Samantha admitted reluctantly. "I was angry at him for a long time, but I had to move past that, before any of this started. And now, I don't know…it's good that he's off the street, that he can't hurt anyone else, but it almost doesn't matter to me, you know?"

"I think so," Flack said, standing up and extending his hand to her. "I'm kinda surprised Ross ain't here."

"I told him I wasn't gonna come," Samantha admitted.

"Why'd you do that?"

"This is my past, Donnie; Adam's my future. I just…it's that last piece I needed to put behind me on my own, you know?"

"I guess, yeah," Flack nodded, not quite comprehending, but knowing enough to let the subject go. "So, what do you say we get out of here and you let your brother buy you lunch?"

"As nice as that sounds, I'll have to pass," Samantha said, finally taking his hand and slowly standing up, taking a moment to find her balance in the her heels. "I've got my last fitting this afternoon."

"That's right, the big white dress," Flack said with a smirk. "You are wearing white, aren't you?"

"Shut up," Samantha laughed, smacking him across the chest.

Flack laughed and tossed his hands up defensively.

"Hey, it was just a question. How was I to know you weren't wearing…I don't know, pink or something?"

"Pink, Donnie? Seriously?" Samantha asked. "Can you really see me wearing pink for anything? _Especially_ my wedding?"

_

* * *

Beep…beep…beep…_

Flack groaned as his eyelids flashed open and then shut again, turning his head into the pillow to block the stream of bright late summer sun filtering in through the crack in the curtains. He quickly reached out his hand, fumbling through the items on the bedside table in a futile effort to find the source of the offensive beeping.

"Make it stop," he groaned loudly.

"You're such a baby," Stella laughed, swatting away the arm that was reaching over her, then grabbing her cell phone from the other bedside table and switching off the alarm. "It's seven o'clock."

"Don't go," Flack said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her body tight against his, his face just inches from hers. "Stay."

"You make quite the tempting argument, Detective," Stella said, smiling as she kissed him slowly, allowing herself to linger in the moment just a bit longer. "But I do have to go."

"No, you don't. I happen to know this girlie brunch thing isn't 'til ten. It's only seven, you've got three hours…c'mon, I can think of a lot better things to do with those three hours."

"Oh, I'm sure you can," Stella smirked as he leaned over and kissed her again. "Mmm…but I have to be there early to make sure the caterers set up properly."

"Why is that your job? Shouldn't Sam be doing that?"

"Of course not," Stella shook her head in disbelief. "She's the bride, Don, and it's her wedding day. All she has to do is show up. I'm the maid of honor, I'm the one who makes sure things go smoothly."

"What time do you gotta be there?"

"Around nine should be good."

"Two hours," Flack said. "The restaurant ain't that far away…"

"Yes, but I have to run back to my place and grab a change of clothes," Stella pointed out. "I can't very well show up in the same outfit I was wearing last night, can I?"

"Don't see what's wrong with what you're wearing right now, to be honest."

"Sure, you wouldn't," Stella retorted, quickly kissing his cheek before slipping out of the bed. "Somehow, though, I don't think anyone else would think it appropriate for me to show up in nothing but your shirt."

"So like I said, don't go," Flack shrugged. "Stay with me a little longer."

"And like I said, I have to go back to my apartment and change."

"Seems like we have this conversation every morning," Flack said, propping himself up on his elbow to get a better view as she slipped into her skirt.

"We do," Stella agreed. "So I know what's coming next, and the answer is still no."

"Don't see why, it makes so much more sense for you to move in with me," Flack said. "You're here every night. Your apartment is basically an overpriced storage closet at this point."

"I'm not having this conversation with you again, not today," Stella insisted.

"What about a new conversation, then?"

Stella watched in confusion as Flack reached over and pulled a small silver key out of the drawer in the bedside table.

"I'm not moving in here," Stella repeated.

"Then it's a good thing this key don't open my door," Flack said. "See, I figured it out. This is my place, your place is your place."

"Brilliant deduction. You say you're a detective?"

"Ha ha ha. Anyhow, I figure, what we need is to move into someplace that's _ours_."

"Please tell me you didn't sign a lease for both us."

"Of course not. You think I could recreate that chicken scrawl you call a signature?"

"So what's the key for?"

"Dramatic effect," Flack shrugged. "I borrowed it from the super, it's for the apartment three floors up. It's bigger, it's newer, it's got a better view…I figured it could at least be a start to look at it."

"I'm going to brush my teeth now," Stella shook her head as she headed into the bathroom.

"Don't use my toothbrush!" Flack shouted. "And just think about would ya, Stel? It's been five months, and I get that I'm not all experienced at this long-term stuff, but that seems plenty long enough to me."

"Mmhmm…" Stella's garbled reply was incomprehensible through her toothbrush.

"Would you at least think about it?"

Stella sighed as she shut off the sink and walked back out of the bathroom, grabbing her skirt off the back of a chair.

"I suppose I could use a little more time to fix my hair in the mornings."

"Not quite what I had in mind for our mornings," Flack said, reaching out and grabbing her wrist, smiling at the tiny shriek that escaped her lips as he pulled her onto the bed next to him.

"Is that so?" Stella asked with a smirk. "And tell me, just what did you have in mind?"

"I could, but I'd so much rather show you," Flack said, wrapping one arm around her waist as leaned over and kissed her, softly at first, his free hand brushing a stray curl out of her face.

"Don…" she muttered anxiously as his lips slowly, teasingly began trailing down her neck toward her collar bone. "I'm going to be late…"

"They'll wait," Flack assured her, and all thoughts of protest soon died on her lips as he carefully rolled on top of her and pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

"You're late," Samantha said, arching an eyebrow suspiciously as Stella rushed into the private back room of the downtown restaurant at quarter past nine.

"And you're early," Stella retorted.

"Don't change the subject," Samantha said. "You're late. Why?"

"You don't want to know."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

"Are there enough place settings here? There don't look like enough."

"I counted three times," Samantha said. "Don't change the subject. You're never late, Stel. What gives?"

"Blame your brother."

"I usually do," Samantha said. "What did he do this time?"

"He distracted me," Stella said. "I was going to be on time, until he pulled out that stupid key."

"You didn't already have a key to his place?"

"No, I do. This was a key to…well, to _our_ apartment."

"Wait, he rented you guys an apartment? Without even showing you?"

"Of course not, he's not that stupid," Stella laughed. "It was more a symbolic key, I guess…the first one he wanted us to look at."

"So you're moving in with my brother?" Samantha asked excitedly.

"I don't know," Stella said.

"God, you move slower than molasses, you know that? You can't drag your feet forever, Stel, Donnie's patient but he's not _that_ patient. What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know," Stella admitted.

"Look, it's my wedding day, and I'm not going to spend giving you relationship advice, so I'm only going to say this once…for God's sake, Stella, stop thinking so much and just do it. You know you want to."

"Well, yeah, but…"

"No buts, just do it. Call it your wedding present to me."

"So that means I can take back the bread machine?"

"I swear, if you bought me a bread machine…"

"Do you really think I would buy you a bread machine?" Stella asked. "Knowing you, you'd probably store dishes in or something."

"Just checking," Samantha said cautiously. "So, are you gonna do it?"

"Not because you said so," Stella said.

"But you are going to do it," Samantha said knowingly.

"Yeah, I think I am," Stella said with a smile.

"Well it's about damn time!" Samantha laughed. "Hey, is that centerpiece off-center on the table?"

"No, it's not," Stella insisted. "And Sam? It's a pre-wedding brunch, not the wedding reception. Let's save the bridezilla stuff for later, okay?"

* * *

Samantha nervously tugged at the edge of her veil as she stood in the tiny room at the back of the church, staring into the full-length mirror in front of her.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she asked hesitantly, turning her head to look at her father, who was hovering just as nervously in the doorway.

"I don't…you look amazing, Sammy," Captain Flack stammered after a moment's hesitation.

"You don't think it's too much?" Samantha asked, gesturing toward the long train on her fitted strapless gown. "It's not me, is it?"

"It's beautiful," Captain Flack assured her, recognizing the doubt on his daughter's face. "_You_ are beautiful, Samantha."

"You really think so?"

"I always have," Captain Flack said, smiling sadly as she turned to face him. "You look so much like your mother."

"I wish she were here," Samantha said.

"Me too," Captain Flack said. "She'd know just what to say right now, to make you less nervous about all of this."

"I'm not nervous about the wedding, not really," Samantha shook her head with a mischievous smile. "I'm just worried I'm gonna trip on this dress and fall flat on my face halfway down the aisle."

"Nah, you just hold on real tight to this arm here and I'll catch you if you fall. But you won't. Your mother won't let that happen."

"You think she's here?" Samantha asked skeptically.

"I know it," Captain Flack said, grabbing her hand and placing it over his heart. "She's with me every day, right here, and I know she's watching you right now, and she's so very happy for you."

"God, that's sappy," Samantha laughed, reaching up to wipe a tear from her face.

"You tell the boys at the station I said that and I'll deny it 'til the day I die," Captain Flack said quickly.

"My lips are sealed," Samantha assured him, pausing for a moment before whispering softly. "But I hope it's true."

Turning back to face the mirror, Samantha sighed again as she smoothed out a wrinkle in the bodice of her dress.

"You ready?" Captain Flack asked.

"Is everyone here?"

"All twelve of everyone," Captain Flack said. "I hope you got a discount for not even using half the pews."

"Hey, everyone I wanted here was on that guest list," Samantha pointed out. "You, Donnie, Stella, Aunt Molly, Aunt Maura, Adam's sisters, Adam's friends. If they're all here, I'm happy."

"Then they're all here," Captain Flack said, extending his arm to her. "So, what do you say we go get you married, baby girl?"

* * *

**A/N:** And there it is, the epilogue! I know I always tend to leave things a little bit unresolved or open-ended in my epilogues, so I hope it satisfied you all! It's been a fun ride, and I thank you all for reading through this story and sticking with me to this point. I truly appreciate each and every one of you who took the time to add my story to your alerts, to leave a review or to send me a message. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you will take a minute to leave one final review and let me know your parting thoughts!

As some of you may know, I am working my way through all my unfinished stories one at a time, completing each one before moving on to the next. For those who were reading some of my other stories, here is the plan now: up next, I will be finishing my Grey's Anatomy story, "Chasing A Ghost" (probably 3-5 chapters left in that one). After that, I will come back to CSI:NY to finish "Everything Changes", then "Looking for a Reason".

Thank you again for reading!


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